Fire

Me and the fire were talking once,
something we haven't done in months.
we sat and talked for hours and hours,
we sat and talked untill the blooming of flowers.
but it seemed as though the fire was sad,
it didnt glisten, it was so bland.
i wondered from where the sadness may have come ?
usually it's as powerful and sweet as Jamaican rum !
i wondered and asked what was making it scuff ?
and how things for it became so rough ?

apparently the fire no longer thinks it's hot stuff !!!
can you imagine something that is more huff ?

i tried to explain the warmth that it gives,
that people endure as long as it lives.
how it brings joy and makes life so colorful,
how it lights our nights and makes it so beautiful.
but the fire is stubborn and won't budge from it's conviction,
perhaps one day i'll be able to cleanse it, from it's affliction.