Spider
Spider, spider, on the wall,
Why do you spin your web here?
Your work’s beauty is lost here,
When it is far more entrancing elsewhere,
Hanging from the boughs of trees,
Glistening in the morning dew.
Perhaps you are showing us what we miss,
Trapping ourselves in our self-made prisons,
Where we cannot marvel at things,
Better than what we can make.
Copyright © Evan Griffin | Year Posted 2015
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