I spun a web and wrapped it round my life;
fine spider silk: the type we’re taught to make.
A sticky weave of working mum and wife;
bespoke design – its cords would never break.
High praise I netted in for such rich yarn;
a gossamer of love cocooned my home,
a strategist at work, a queen of charm;
my daughter watched me multi-task alone.
One day a soundless stranger hacked my web:
the guilty culprit, multiple sclerosis;
my legs and arms recoiled. But changing thread
I learned to weave beyond this diagnosis.
My web today is finer; plies are few,
but spun of gold, their pattern true.
© Leonie Martin 2018