The spider wakes before the break of dawn,
Carefully crafting her silken web.
Dewdrops adorn it like pearls on a bride;
Basking in the glory of a new day.
She smiles to herself, proud of her oeuvre.
Until it rains.
Pitter
Patter Pitter
Patter Pitter
Patter

The crops rejoice, the rivers dance,
Rain patters on the shingles,
Like a drummer playing his tunes.
The spider groans: her work is washed away.
Her lovely web lay lifeless on the ground;
Like a soldier knocking on deaths door.

She regains her poise.
‘I’ll start again.’ She whispers.
And so, she weaves, once again,
Carefully crafting her silken web.
It glimmers, drinking in the pale sunlight.
Alas!
The north wind breaks her trance
It teases her like a cruel jokester.
‘Catch me if you can’, it whispers into her ear.
And leaves with her precious web.

She weaves her web again and again,
And again, and again and again.
The mistress sweeps her web with a portly broom,
The children tear it with their hands.
The cattle rush forth in blinding hunger,
Her silken web trampled under their cloven hooves.
Yet she sits and patiently weaves,
From sunup to sundown.

The spider wakes up before the break of dawn,
To weave her silken web.
Her home is destroyed in the blink of an eye,
Yet she is resilient.
Weaving
Weaving
And weaving.
Until someone wrecks it again.

About the Poet 

Ann Mathew is a fourteen-year-old who enjoys reading in her spare time. She is a connoisseur of music and poetry. She is an aspiring artist. She uses imagery to express her views on life in her poetry. She likes debates and conversations with new and interesting people.