The spider eater

He gave me some flowers that were taken
from a grave he just happened to pass by.
When I asked about it, he didn’t say why.
In return, I made him eggs and bacon.

He would eat spiders if that impressed me,
and said one day I’d make someone a good wife.
We were friends in that stage of my life
when spiders were such scary things to me.

He would dance on the stickiest dance floor
if that was what I liked to do, he would,
and ate the rubbish I served and called food,
he asked me afterwards if I had more.

I sometimes see him working on his farm.
He doesn’t dance no more, he wouldn’t harm,
or eat a spider if I asked him to.

One time he saw me and a moment long
I watched him dancing, smiling, heard our song,
and for a moment I was dancing too.

Comments on: "The spider eater" (12)

  1. Very beautiful poem Ina! I love your poem it is very well written…God bless!

  2. Lousy food is the death of love.

  3. Lovely writing as always – images that strike my heart…

  4. What a lovely poem.

    I do like a woman who makes me egg and bacon!! πŸ™‚

    Take care

    • πŸ™‚ Thank you very much. Ah, but would you eat my spiders lol! πŸ™‚
      Take good care too!

  5. Memories forgive so many things! Love it, Ina. Blessings XO

  6. Now, this one is an absolute cracker! πŸ™‚

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