What father-spider did I kill?
What stickly legs and pudgy, rounded
Body mixed upon the wall,
And have they missed him, yet, at all?
Or worse, arachnid mother gone,
With eggly children in her pouch.
A family outing gone awry?
With just a swat (and no goodbye?)
I'll have no tickley pillow-case,
Or stickly legs across my face.
A mix of spider down the wall,
Then tissue-wiped, beyond recall.
Now, why report that little life
was there - then swiftly swept away.
As mine may be on any day
I venture forth or homely stay.
No guarantees for spider climbly, timely.
01-04-2000
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3 comments:
Isn't it funny that when swatting them, we usually have a piece of tissue handy to wipe the evidence of spider homicide away.
Today's Garfield was priceless. There he stands, rolled up paper in hand about to smash the spider.
Next frame, Spider says, "I know where there's fudge."
Last frame, Garfield says, "He's good!" And the spider still stands there!
I guess yours didn't know where the fudge was!
PS: Share more pomes, from time to time?
Someone asked me why anyone would feel sorry for a spider ...
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