The Spider worked
Through the dark of night
Holding a ball of silken yarn
To weave a house of her dreams
Splendid it was indeed when finished
And diligently done
Like a flawless piece of art
There she sat beside it
With an air of pride and content
As if alluring everyone to visit
Her newly created artwork .
And surely, the spider would have won
Huge accolade for her unique talent
As the Master artist among her tribe
To be envied by any craftperson.
If only she hadn't cunningly abused
Her skill to hide her wicked intents --
Of seducing innocent visitors
To fall unawares into the jaws of death!
If ever you feel unwittingly drawn
Towards a spot of unusual charm
Make sure it's fair as it appears to be
And not a spider's plan .