the house is clean except for the cobwebs remnants of past lives
NOTES
This poem was sparked by Fálki’s prompt of “spider” at her Mighty Network. I immediately thought of the cobwebs I see in the house near the ceiling. As we are about to leave for the camping season, I imagine the house cleared out and clean, but somehow the cobwebs are left. Perhaps they are too high for the cleaner to reach. Perhaps they arrived after the cleaning took place. Perhaps. Perhaps. Regardless, cobwebs served their purpose at one time, and the lives that were fulfilled and lost in them, or that were fulfilled and lost in this house, should be honored, even if the cobwebs are truly “remnants”.