She was first my roaring fire;

an untamed flame of unspeakable allure.

Taming the flame took patience

and burns and blisters to endure.

My fiery maiden of burning passion!

She was a scented candle or a lighter.

Her heart still blazes brighter than she herself,

and her smiles glows ever so brighter.

She soon became my calm sea;

Alas, the flame still flickered.

Sometimes, the tides would start to crash,

or her waves would flow quicker.

My vast and open worldly home;

she was tamed and yet she can't be tracked.

I'd sail a thousand miles amongst this sea,

and to land, I'd never go back.

But no longer does my flame burn,

neither do my ocean waves flow.

She is my nature of age,

and I'm glad I watched her grow.

But she is now my dying tree

of stiff bark and withered leaves.

I have no fire or a sea,

but a beautiful dying tree.