The day grows short
The flowers wilt
The birds stop their song
The spider filled with guilt.
The day grows cold
The stem no more
The river floods
The rain does pour.
The day grows dark
The color dies
The sun is gone
The spider cries.
The moon is out
The flower remembers when it came
The stars are out
The spider stops its game.
The web is done
The flower is dead
The spider weeps
And all is said.
The day is over
The sun sinks low
The spider sobs
The flower will go.
The time has come
The wind blows hard
The flower falls
The spider lets down its guard.
The flower is gone
The spider’s fame
The spider knows
The flower returned to the dust from which it came.
This is written about a friend of mine who was killed in a car accident when we were younger. I took it really hard, and this helped me get through it.
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