Macwolls Kay

The Widow - Poem by Macwolls Kay

She spins her line with great precision,
An artful craft inherently mastered,
Up, down and across, she makes her way.
Fine treacherous strings, traps of death,
She spreads it wide she spreads it high,
She then sits still and in silence awaits the clunky intruder.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 24, 2012

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