The Spider Yarn - Poem by Valsa George
The spider spins his magic web,
With dexterous skill too hard to beat,
Each yarn so carefully knit,
In crisscross fashion, amazing to view.
Like a fabric buoyant in the air,
His gossamer kingdom hangs afloat,
Supported on leaves, twigs or walls,
It stays intact, never crumbling down.
At the centre, he proudly dwells,
Like the monarch of a vast empire,
With discreet vigil, he keeps alert,
To trap the spies that cross the bounds.
The arrogant despot never allows,
Intrusion from anyone around,
Those who dare to trespass his terrain,
Are meted out with the penalty of death.
Perchance if any strand is loose,
He repairs it all at once,
Never waits for the time to pass,
Or seeks help from anyone else.
If his domain is blown amiss,
With stunning speed he sets to work,
Never ready to accept defeat,
He goes on weaving his web anew.
The spiralling spider in his web,
Spins the thread of a ‘mysterious yarn',
With an edifying moral for you and me,
To marvel over one's own work.
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