Her fragile faith a silvered thing. Woven in dark hours, filled with breathless, whispered singing. A crooning sweet string of notes. Brailled on her skin, her tongue, her feet. Her fingers knitted together. Her brow a furrow of concentration. If she just believed, if she just believed. And the dark wind stirred her hair, raised gooseflesh on her arms. And still she hummed and sang. Afraid and shivering, but singing still. Until the spiders came, soft and grey. To help her build her silvered thing. Their calm kind eyes filled with spider tears. Spider dreams trailing silk and hope. Weaving legs whispering spider song. ‘Til her ears were filled with tenderness. And she could sleep again. Wrapped in fragile silvered wishes.