Most men would kill
For eight legs in their bed
A healthy serve of blondes, a few brunettes
and one red head
Curved spines, lips entwined
Caught on every word they said.
There’s a lot of gentlefolks,
Who’d auction off a limb
To curl with Lady Huntsman
In the silken web she’d spin
Arms twisting up the tethers
Which gently lured him in.
Then breathing steadily,
Spread across a puckered sheet
Her eyes were locked in gaze
And he rested soft and sweet,
Until that old Eight Legged beauty
Bit his head off in his sleep.
catherinesietkiewicz.com 