Life has a battle in it's time,
The mess of the rattle was his crime.
He carries no emotion while I feel like crying;
for this midnights commotion seeks answers by prying.
Content is the day for a moment sublime,
but caught on the hooks I once again chime.
These are the times of the spider webbed mind,
Age will be the peace from a 30 year lease.
Julie Schleppegrell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-spiderweb/
