Painted buttercups wind
a smiling blossom-wreath
curl on sunshine
shutter blinds.
Little girl leans
on her windowsill,
chewing her plait in thought.
Crammed collecting jar,
Daddy long-legs,
fine-limbed brown stalky,
tapping out their pleas
for freedom's air.
Fly supplies were needed,
evaded her flapping hunt
with a casual buzz,
flip of a zigzag path.
She chewed a few strands more.
But, they were her spiders,
she'd caught them
all by herself,
in the cellar.
Now, they
were eating
each other.
Tap tap tap
Chew chew chew
Tap tap tap
Chew chew chew
Slow, satisfied smile spreads,
she would let them go
at the Butcher's shop;
lots of flies round there.
