The Bucket

The weed bucket sat in the hot, humid soil

Awaiting the gardeness’s return

Eager, his duty to perform

At last, here she comes!

Laden with Spring’s usurpers, dandelions and thistles

But what’s this?

She freezes mid-step, turning on her heel

Flinging down his purpose

Loudly she flees, cursing

Our poor rusty bucket still sits

Stricken, mute, and forlorn

“Don’t worry my friend”

Says the consoling spider

“It wasn’t you”

Reviews

[Relic]

lol spiders will scare the hell out of any woman. Those least suspected times are the worst. :)