The Black Spider

by Sandra

Once upon a dark and chilly night,
of a cold autumn,
I began to think of the memory of my mother.
Her hair black as the soil.
Milky cream complexion.
She was always so cold,
Though her heart was warm as a summer day.
Suddenly I heard a light sound of tiny steps.
Must be a visitor.
Trying to come through my thin chamber door.
I remembered the tree overlooking my home.
The branches must be rustling against the door.
That's it. I stare into the fire.
To warm my heart. With sweet memories.
That is all.

Oh, how I wish to go back to the good old days.
Of childhood games and innocent pleasures.
With my mother always by my side.
I think of this while I look at old photographs
of my dearest loves.
How I prayed for my mother to come back in my place.
She gave so much love to all she knew.
Never judged or had a look of displeasure.
I hope to be that way. That is all I ask.
That is all.

Again I hear the tiny steps.
This time a tiny shadow appears under the door.
A shadow in the moonlight.
I wonder if it could be a stray animal or pet.
Cold, lonely, and wet.
I begin to slowly walk towards the door.
To see the mystery that lies behind.
To my surprise, it is nothing but a helpless spider.
With black hair. Shivering with cold.
I feel deja- vu. How curious that such a creature appears.
I ponder. A friendly reminder, of a life lost long ago.
That is all.