Awaiting His Prey Poem by Paul Beare

Awaiting His Prey



High on the ceiling corner, hanging net strong in its world, eight bitty eyes peer out as it awaits with forbearance for victims.
None today, maybe a feasible fly tomorrow.
I sleep now.
It walks away into the night, lost like my wondering silent mind.

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Paul Beare

Paul Beare

Albuquerque, New Mexico
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