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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

The Monster in the Glade


Da_Yog

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The Monster in the Glade

 

The setting sun Imparts last rays—

As something baleful—in glade wakes

Long legs stretch, it cares not for play.

 

It crawls from black hole—where it stays

Onto gray branch, a thirst to slake

The setting sun imparts last rays—

 

Ageless instinct guides it on the way

For liquid supper—it must make

Long legs stretch, it cares not for play.

 

From low branch down—to waiting day

A strong web to ground it must stake

The setting sun imparts last rays—

 

Circling round spokes it makes its way

In dark center—sleep it must fake

Long legs stretch, it cares not for play.

 

Hours will pass awaiting prey

Until chance cause insect’s mistake

The setting sun imparts last rays—

Long legs stretch, it cares not for play.

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