467 (03.10.2015)

Outside the kitchen window lurks my friend,
A spider just as deadly as a bomb
Who causes many six-legged lives to end
In webs he weaves with effortless aplomb.
His legs are sharp, his body fed and plump,
He moves like light upon his silver strings,
When there's the slightest twitch I see him jump,
Onto a fly to embroider its wings.
Both night and day he waits upon his silk,
As patient and as calm as death itself,
To suck from tangled prey the living milk,
And add it to the store of his own wealth.
So clinical and fast and quick and clean,
The outside window fly killing machine.

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