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The Spider
by
Amy Sorenson
The spider spins a silky web,
Draped on plants and trees,
It scuttles to its cobweb bed,
And settles on its knees.
Its body, like a lump of coal,
Is still as still can be,
Hiding in its darkened hole,
It sits in wait for tea.
The web flickers in the breeze,
A fly is trapped and caught,
Hurrying to its spindly knees,
The spider spins it taught.
Smothered in the sticky silk,
The fly is drained of blood,
The spider slurps it like cold milk,
And leaves a lifeless bud.
The spindly legs, they make me freeze,
My blood runs cold with fear,
The spider approaches in the breeze,
I cry a silent tear.
So sneaky is this cunning beast,
The thought makes me shake,
For when it sees a little treat,
It's deadly as a snake!
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