‘What a pretty day.’
So thought I when I awoke
‘I should walk about.’
Fresh and clear the air
Wafting o’er my limbs and face
The view a delight
Not to appear vain
But I am a handsome sort
All my parts ‘perfect'
Reflected in dew
With all the blest splendidness
My beauty blended
Ahead a bare branch
Laid out for me to amble
Hung with gossamer
Below waving tall
Larkspurs blue, purple, and pink
Fatally distract
Gossamer’s gauzy
Finger strokes my foot, seizes
Me. I pull away.
Too late. Wrapping done.
Silky bars stay my progress
Never going home.