Within the confines of my balcony garden, a spider weaves,
A web of perseverance and strength, it believes.
With delicate limbs and eight piercing eyes,
A spider spins her web beneath darkened skies.

Oh, how she trembles with each captured breath,
For her existence is under constant threat.
A feverish dance of life, she must lead,
In the face of adversity, she must proceed.

An artisan of silk, she crafts her snare,
With patient precision, void of despair.
Her nimble fingers work to weave a dream,
Intricate patterns, a marvel it seems.

But her journey is plagued with unanswered pleas,
As the world misunderstands her spider-y deeds.
She is feared and loathed for her venomous fang,
Yet her delicate dance speaks of a different pang.

For she too yearns for love, companionship true,
A soul to share her world, just like me and you.
But society shuns her, in her plight she is alone,
A solitary spinner, with heartache to atone.

Through cold and rain, she perseveres,
Her fragile spirit clothed in strength, no tears.
Her sticky silk threads become her guide,
As she navigates this life filled with strife.

Oh, spider, we must learn from thy plight,
To confront our fears, to embrace the night.
To spin our own webs, delicate and strong,
To prove the critics wrong, and sing our own song.

For in the struggle lies life's hidden grace,
A reminder to persevere, to set our pace.
Like the spider, we too can find our way,
In this vast, intricate web of a world, we may stay.