One candle out in the chandelier
I hope what jumps out isn't another spider
You the smallest little spider

I couldn't kill you
But then your grew
And there you are

In the dried flowers

A purple rose bouquet

Dried and arranged
An expensive antique vase
And through the corner of my eye

A spider

The hall light doesn't work at all

And I know why
But I'm not allowed to tell you
And it has nothing to do with spiders

Almost tripped on a fringed rug
Where is the broom?


A new bouquet this week
Yellow and bright pinks
I will dry and press and iron

Between waxed paper
There should be no spiders


Walking on the old driveway
A warm stone reflects the sun
I pick a smaller bouquet today

Miniature daisies
And hopefully no spiders