Patricia Sampson


He Doesn'T Live Here Any More - Poem by Patricia Sampson

Oh I say! What a nerve, he came right through my door
I had to define, his house or mine?
And were there any more
He went to work straight away
and created a work of art
He must have started it yesterday
'Cos I didn't see him start

He quickly moved from place to place
Hanging from a thread
A beautiful delicate a piece of lace
Was hanging overhead
He didn't seem to notice me
As he toiled away
It was such a beautiful sight to see
But he was in my way

Who are you I said,
Looking above my head
You came right through my door
You know that I didn't invite you in
And are there any more
He looked at me, thinking, who is she?
And what is that she said
Ive made my bed, above her head
And I've been here before

I looked around, and I then found,
His friends were here as well
More pieces of lace, scattered around the place
So is this where they dwell?
I was quite alarmed, yet they've done me no harm
Its time to say Good-bye
They still have to leave, Even though I believe
That their prey is the common fly

I reached for the lace, then I saw his face
He didn't look too pleased
He wanted to say, Keep away
I protect you from decease
I catch the flies, as they fly by
They sticks to my web like glue
They carry on their wings,
Various germs and things
And I do no harm to you

Well I must admit, I had to sit
And think about what to do
He might be old. And it is very cold
But I could flush him down the loo
That's when I heard, a silent word
As my friend came through the door
The look on his face when he saw the lace
And I've seen that look before

To my surprise, I saw fear in his eyes
and for sure it was real
That's a spider he said, I wish he was dead
Cos this it how I feel
How can this be, I thought surprisingly
He is such a tiny creature,
Just to begin, he will tickle your skin
With his special feature

Well, said my friend, I can't pretend
They scare the hell out of me
They should not reside here inside
Outdoors is where they should be
Was my friend right, he sure put up a fight
And I want to see him again
So the spider must go and then I'll know
my friend will come now and then

Again I reached for the lace
couldn't look at his face
I then touched it with my hand
it clung to the wall, wouldn't budge at all
I didn't understand
It stuck to my skin, very silky and thin
I didn't like the feel
with his long legs, of six,
nought for us humans to fix
For his place in nature's ideal

I then found the broom from the other room
and brushed it up the wall
The web stuck to the bristle
my friend started to whistle
as he watched the spider fall
I scooped him up, in an old cup
and took him to the door
Now he's remote, there's a lump in my throat
When I say, he don't live here any more


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, July 4, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, July 5, 2013


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