Arachnids spin their webs –
hammocks between the trees –
dripping with last night’s rain.
juicy – like the fruits in the trees –
crunchy – like the fallen twigs –
quick…but not quick enough.
but not quick enough.
One scurries on the forest floor.
One lonely creature
doesn’t make his way home –
expands his beautiful body
before he curls up and dies.
My first love – like every love before.
updated by @ceri-shaw: 11/24/19 06:16:51PM