Cobwebs Poem by Ruth Walters

Cobwebs

There she'd sit,
placid,
uncomplaining,

where spiders
walked
and cobwebs formed.

Dirty, dangling
clouds of smoky silk,
darkening

the ceiling
above the hall
stairs

If you dared offer
help,
sharp words would

rain down on you.
wound you, and daggers
would

pierce your heart
from her bright,
aquamarine eyes,

so, the cobwebs
remained, mocking,
taunting....

forever
out of reach
to all who called.

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