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The tipsy turvy spider

I went to pour out a christmas drink,
Into my christmas liquer glass.
No I didn't notice the spider there,
Trying to escape a liqueur bath..

I didn't know what it was thinking
It really was a laugh. To watch
a spider that had been drinking
From a liqueur one shot glass.

So I fished it out quite carefully,
With my rod and line.
Trying to look at me soberly,
With wobbly legs it told me it was fine.

With blurry eyes it had tried,
With it's many eyes.
To give me a knowing wink,
But it had far to much to drink.

I made up a match box bed,
On that cold winters night.
Giving it a doll house blanket,
Before bidding the spider goodnight.

That morning when I woke up,
I took it a thimble of coffee.
Noticing a poorly strung web,
That it had spun on it's wobbly legs.

It was nowhere to be seen,
Talking too myself. I said,
With all that it had drunk,
It must have wandered off
somewhere with a very sore head.

That night I decided, to pour myself another one.
Into my liqueur glass, Before I did I started to laugh
For inside my empty glass was my tipsy turvy friend;
Waiting very patiently for it's liqueur bath.

Poetry by Alan J Ripley