A spark, a flame,

A growing flame,

A forest never to be the same,

No, I’ll never do that again.

 

A flame that becomes a fire,

A small little fire,

That rises higher,

Now i desire.

 

The colors of a demon,

A glowing red demon,

Now it has freedom,

Doesn’t come down with water even.

 

Sad ,dark ashes,

Cold ashes,

Not a rabbit that dashes,

Or a bug that flashes -would roam here again.