A tiny, flickering spark of flame

Leaping up, tired of being contained

Landing with the smallest fizzle

Amused, I attempt to whistle

The tune is bumpy and sounds awful

So I stop and grab a handful

Of the papers lined up neatly by my side

Scribbles, paragraphs, letters unsent

Slipped from my hand and to the fire they went

And it does sort of make my stomach churn

Watching my written words all burn

But it's all worth it and you'd agree

If you'd seen the way that fire smiled at me