Teeny Tiny Footprints Poem by Sherrie Lowe

We had a little spider
Several years ago,
His home was in the bathroom,
Beside the overflow.
He wasn't any trouble,
He never did intrude,
He kept his eyes averted
When we were in the nude.
He came to mind quite recently
As I began to paint
The blessed wooden window frames,
A job I really hate.
I look for him quite often
But I know he isn't there,
He vanished quite a while ago
But then, he left an heir.
Another little spider,
Just like the one before,
We're careful not to tread on him
When he is on the floor.
We know that this one's different,
The secret's in his toes,
All of his are black you see
Just like his little nose.
The other one was curious,
We chose to call him Gloss,
In honour of his three white feet
And the paint he walked across.