Incy Wincy Spider

Poetry

Diya Saini
Jun 14 · 1 min read

It was the wee hours per me too early for any normal person to sight.

Other than oldies and health freaks like me.

I lit the light from my porch to combat the unknown darkness.

But after my act, there was another act on the line.

A baby spider was tucking and pulling on each hole in my shoe.

Accompanying on the trail of my lace with its lace to learn knitting the right way.

I waited because I knew this would be his only way to feed him on his prey.

When whacked by a waiting signboard instead of slamming your head on it like a bull.

The corrupted message, says to be stiffer and patient in the direction you roll.

The Lark

The Lark shares fictional short stories and poetry