In the stillness of the midnight hour, When dreams unfurl with quiet power, A secret dance, unseen, unfolds, A tale of spiders, brave and bold.

Teenage risktakers, nimble, sly, With silken threads, they dare to fly. From ceilings high, they bungee down, Into the dark, without a sound.

Silent as shadows, they descend, On daring missions, round the bend. A careful line, each taking turn, A nighttime rite, no cause for concern.

They know the risk, they know the score, To wake you up would mean no more. So deftly, softly, they embark, In moonlit rooms, so still, so dark.

Through parted lips, they make their way, A fleeting touch, then swift relay. A secret sport, a hidden game, Unknown to you, their nightly claim.

Yet you sleep on, in peaceful rest, Untroubled by their silent quest. For in this dance of spiders’ flight, They leave no trace, no mark, no fright.

And when the dawn breaks, soft and clear, The spiders fade, they disappear. A secret kept, a tale untold, Of teenage spiders, brave and bold.

🌙🕷️🕸️