In the quiet corners, shadows dance,
Spiders weave their silent romance.
Threads like whispers, spun with care,
In moonlit gardens, hanging in the air.
With legs of grace, they craft a dream,
A fragile world in silver gleam.
Each thread a story, old and new,
A tapestry hidden from our view.
By night they toil, in secret art,
Creating worlds that soon depart.
In morning light, their work revealed,
A delicate web, a fate concealed.
Yet in their silence, wisdom lies,
A dance of life beneath the skies.
For spiders teach us, in their way,
To weave our dreams, come what may.