I am glowing.
I would turn earth to ash for you.
I am burning.
And when you whisper in my ear,
I am roaring orange,
crackling and cackling
and whirring and stirring
and boiling incandescent.

But then you go.

Suddenly I am smouldering.

I am
fading.

I
am
ember.


Penned by my hand on the 12th of Scarlatan, in the year 986 AF.