There are spiders in my shoes.
Small and diligent, they build thin webs.
"I need those shoes, they house my toes and protect my feet."
But the spiders don't listen.
They spin webs anyway.

Eight feet at work.
Sixteen if you count the other bunch.
I tiptoe past them for fear of their bite.
I’m much too scared to make them move.
So I let them stay.