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Little Miss Muffet by the garden stone
A bowl in her lap and a world of her own
She sat with her curds and whey,
still as a thought
Small hands holding comfort that the morning brought A spider drew near
through the hush of the air Not only a creature,
but the shape of a scare The old little story is more
than a fright
It frames how a feeling can darken the light
The spider is worry with eight quiet feet It climbs where the
tender and fragile things meet The bowl is her shelter,
the place she can stay Till fear finds a crack and it
carries her away
Little Miss Muffet, don't run from the sign Fear makes a giant
from a thread and a line Little Miss Muffet,
the dream starts to shake What if the monster is the shape
that we make
Oh oh,
it circles, then falls apart Oh
oh,
it lives in the startled heart
Maybe the spider is change at the door A life that grows
wider than what came before
Maybe the curds and whey stand for the known
Sweet little rituals we call our own She rises and runs,
and the rhyme leaves a trace
Of childhood and panic and leaving a place A tiny scene,
a trembling mind A loss of peace we all can find In
every age the picture stays A small fear stealing simple days Little
Miss Muffet, don't run from the sign Fear makes a giant from
a thread and a line Little Miss Muffet,
the dream starts to shake
What if the monster is the shape that we make Oh
oh,
it circles, then falls apart Oh oh,
it lives in the startled heart
Back to the bowl,
back to the stone
A child with a fear that never walks alone