Its glow is as bright as the sun.
It produces a
Black,
Wispy,
Billowing cloud.
You can smell it,
Just don’t touch it.
You can run, but it chases you.
Hot as the desert it burns.
It could be
Minutes,
Hours,
It might go out now,
Just don’t touch it.
Staring into the embers you see
Lady Flame dancing on her stage of wood.
Just don’t touch it.