In the corner, still and small, Threads of silver start to sprawl. Woven fine with silent care, Catching whispers in the air. Spiderweb, a lace so thin, Strong as steel, yet soft as skin. Glimmers bright in morning's gleam, Like a thread pulled from a dream. Hangs in hush, both trap and art, Built with patience, strand by part. Nature’s net in twilight’s glow, Holding secrets we don’t know. Every line a story spun, Shimmering beneath the sun. Fragile things with strength inside, Where quiet beauty likes to hide.. again!
