As a kid, on fall mornings,

I would rise before I woke,

And take off running 

Toward the dirt road that led to town.

And before I got to the road,

The sandy lane I ran

Was full of spider webs.

They would hit me across my face

As I flew through them,

And I would cringe and try to slap them away,

Flailing my hands all about in a fit

At the thought of spiders.

The wind has teeth today and I am cold.

I have numb and silent memories 

Of always wanting to run away.

But I would only get so far,

And feel I had nowhere to go.

So I would turn

And run back home.

And now I even miss the spiderwebs.

-jenn