Wolf in My Room
There's a wolf in my room that doesn't spell doom.
It's just a spider, my kind of insider.
I watch the wolf as he climbs the walls and jumps,
Over obstacles with ease, and as if blown by a breeze.
Jumps to his conclusion, without confusion.
Without a doubt, his course planned out.
He leaps into the breach, only to reach,
The end of his life web, it stops him dead.
Single minded in his way, he stalks his prey.
Invisible to me, but he can see, and smell and feel.
The imagined bug from the real.
A mite that might bite, me.
And this, he does for free, for the pleasure of accompanying me.
As we work in the light and shadow of my room.
I just hope he doesn't steal across my face in the night gloom.
Only if he wants to seal his doom.