Dead spiders on the ceiling, just hangin’ around,
swinging on their high trapeze.
With every breeze from the window they take to the air,
doing summersaults with the rythym of the wind.
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC
Dead spiders on the ceiling, just hangin’ around,
swinging on their high trapeze.
With every breeze from the window they take to the air,
doing summersaults with the rythym of the wind.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
