A spider lives on the moon.

She spins a web between the stars,

Weaving lines of silk against a dark, summer sky,

Like spirals of beautiful things cast around the world,

To catch the lost souls left wandering through the night.

A spider lives on the moon,

And I think she’s lonely;

Lonely up there between worlds,

Holding up the universe

In the absence of suns.

I wish I could be the moon,

Or even just a star,

To be encased in her soft touch,

And either of us would have to be alone.