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.
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