They say you reap what you sow
so I hustle about,
weave my web until it’s perfect.
I take precautions, build it up with foundation.
I weave it again and again,
again and again,
mending the fragments,
patching the connections.

My web will be strong as steel,
big as a net, invisible to the eye,
intricate with traps, all for the
biggest prey I will ever get.

But my web fails me.
It’s brittle bones collapses day after day
Into a heap, melts under the sun like wax,
again and again.
My prey escapes, and as I patch up again,
And again, and again,
I wonder if I will ever
reap what I
sow.