I brave the dimly lit stairwell
I must
It is in my path
Webs hanging everywhere
Spiders threatening to fall in my hair
It’s not a good place for me
They hang there in silence
Their scores of eyes watching
The surveillance is disheartening
Being watched by eight legged freaks
Usually their webs are up high
An arch for humans to pass on by
But today they seem lower
I wish I had a flamethrower
To carve me a hole to pass through
A glint catches my eye
Even as I try to creep by
I imagine it’s a venomous fang
So I duck and I tuck and I roll
Ending at the bottom of the stairs
Mostly none the worse for the wear
I look up as I stand up
And dust myself off
All the spiders are looking at me
Saddened it seems
By my successful pass through
They might have ordered a meeting
To decide just what to do
I fear that tomorrow
Much to my sorrow
The webs will be lower still
If they can snag me
I know that they will
Then at their mercies I will be
No comments:
Post a Comment