One candle out in the chandelier
I hope what jumps out isn't another spider
You the smallest little spider
I couldn't kill you
But then your grew
And there you are
In the dried flowers

A purple rose bouquet
Dried and arranged
An expensive antique vase
And through the corner of my eye
A spider

The hall light doesn't work at all
And I know why
But I'm not allowed to tell you
And it has nothing to do with spiders
Almost tripped on a fringed rug
Where is the broom?

A new bouquet this week
Yellow and bright pinks
I will dry and press and iron
Between waxed paper
There should be no spiders

Walking on the old driveway
A warm stone reflects the sun
I pick a smaller bouquet today
Miniature daisies
And hopefully no spiders