"Lessons from a House of Webs"

A spider weaves with silken care, A fragile house of threads so spare, That cannot shield from snow, sun or rain, But my home's walls stay strong and plain. Where spiders build with lonely art, Their house holds neither home nor heart, No mother's love, no father's smile, No sister's laugh to make life worthwhile. Our kitchen table, marked and worn, Tells stories of each night and morn, Of homework done and cookies shared, Of "I love you" and "I was scared." No spider knows the gentle peace Of movie nights and soft release, Of blanket forts and bedtime tales, Of comfort when your courage fails. Their webs may glisten, silver-bright, But cannot warm the darkest night, Cannot hold memories in their strands Like picture frames and helping hands. My home's not perfect, sometimes creaks, Has water stains and door that squeaks, But love binds stronger than silk thread: In warmth and joy, our hearts are fed. So let the spider spin alone, I know what makes a real home: Not walls of silk or perfect art, But people who join heart to heart!