The Spider’s Canvas
A poem
A poem
Strung between corners,
fine silken threads
glimmer in the low light.
Geometric patterns take shape
through the night, and
spinning and weaving tirelessly,
placed with perfect precision,
a jewel takes form.
In the shadows they wait,
invisible snares to ensnare.
Prey drawn into gossamer,
crafted to entice and entrap.
The stronger the struggle,
the tighter it clings,
there is no escape.
Morning dew catches her creation,
revealing its beauty,
as allure masks the darkness within.
Disguised as a work of art,
spun from her very essence,
until swept away when no longer of use,
the cobwebs remain
as the spider’s haunting masterpiece.