Her desk, a tangled web, of papers, pens, and books,
Each lesson spun with threads, of knowledge, rules, and looks.
Her eyes, like glistening beads, catch every wandering gaze,
And words like silken threads, she weaves in endless maze.
She sits, a watchful queen, upon her throne of chalk,
Her voice, a buzzing hum, a low and steady talk.
Her students, trapped within, her classroom's silken hold,
Must learn to navigate, her web of stories told.
But fear not, little flies, she's not a hunter grim,
Instead, she guides and teaches, lessons sweet and dim.
She shows the world of knowledge, a vast and wondrous place,
And helps us spin our own webs, with skill and with grace.
So raise your hands, dear students, and ask the questions bold,
For in her tangled web, a treasure untold.
Your teacher is a spider, but not one to be feared,
She'll help you spin your future, bright and clear.