An Artesian Had Done Well

Older lady with face of a ninety-year old Wore a bejeweled spider on her lapel It was striking, many commented Others seemed to not notice How you could not notice, I do not know She was a tiny woman, weighing seventy pounds Two of it was from the spider brooch It was her inheritance someone whispered. I was not sure what they meant. Her only inheritance? Her favorite inheritance? From her parents or from a man? I did not know her well enough to ask. But I stared at it for a long time. This spider was an undisputed beauty. An artesian had done well.