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Peter Posted 22 years ago
The spider
To the fields they go to die
Their secrets ripe beneath the sky
Nursing, digging fly’s a fly
Toiling under spider’s eye
Secrets taken, not a cry
He twinkles now, the spider’s high
Licking lips, the web to tie
If one I be then what am I?
Their secrets ripe beneath the sky
Nursing, digging fly’s a fly
Toiling under spider’s eye
Secrets taken, not a cry
He twinkles now, the spider’s high
Licking lips, the web to tie
If one I be then what am I?
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