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The Web Poetry Corner - M A Heathcote - A cradle of time

A cradle of time


M A Heathcote

Widow spider!
Lazing; on your Ida down.
Donít point your finger!
Behave like a clown.

For unobtrusive, sleep
Might knock you!
Off, your perch to the ground.
And spirit you away_
Until naught is ever found,

In those cradle pinched hours_
Might you one day weep.
All dewy dismembered_
Webbed in a winds; keep.

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