In the forest of dreams she sits,
sat on the grass in a copse,
she's wearing a hat to save her eyes,
from the tiresome effects of the lunchtime skies,
she's thinking of last week and next week.
As well as the que sera sera,
she's thinking of missing things and stolen friends,
the girl's debating the existence of fairies and scary things,
scary things like snakes and ladders,
spiders and riders,
who creep through the night,
spiders who're walking over her face,
are they big fat hairy ones with gangly fragile legs,
or are they minute money ones,
ready to leave a deposit,
well that's what she taught her children,
in the days when they were young,
see a money spider,
lain beside his place,
you'll generally find some pence,
somewhere lurking in his space,
he left them there you know,
and they believed my tales of reinforcement,
that spiders were just spiders,
Strange nowadays,
my children think they're really cool.
(C) Livvi