Spider In Winter
A spider winters in the leaves,
Tucked from the bitter cold
it weaves, a den
within a curled, dead leaf
concealed
and covered, underneath,
when life has withered,
black and
brown,
it's empty shell,
goes floating
down
This poem is interesting that the meter is in iambic pentameter but I chose to format it like a Free Verse.
A spider winters in the leaves,
Tucked from the bitter cold it weaves,
a den within a curled, dead leaf
concealed and covered, underneath.
When life has withered, black and brown,
it's empty shell, goes floating down.
How would you have formatted it, if it were your poem.
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