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.