Fire

First, a wispy curl of smoke Hovering in the air, it spirals calmly Then, a single tongue of flame Tasting the air for the first time It leaps and dances with youthful energy Growing larger, it likes what it finds It crackles and snaps as sparks fly It roars, consuming with a voracious appetite Always hungers, yet never thirsts Its steady glow flickers next, and casts shadows Where there once was light Its embers settle and sigh, reflecting on past times Now it takes a final breath It is warm to the touch still Yet it is cold inside, living as a lingering memory Thus, the fire dies.