A web was weaved the moment I wrote,
a poetic little spider bit my tongue,
telling me to speak,
so I spoke.

An itsy bitsy spider weaved her little web,
slowly her poetic justice came down like a knife,
cutting a gash in my empty life.
I transformed into an ink smear
leaving my mark.

The itsy bitsy spider never left,
she still sets beside me
and my poetic writing’s.
Weaving for me,
and telling me what to write.

© By Amanda D Shelton