Cold dark lane , all creepy and eerie

Stinking with far gone lives now not so dearie

Dust and dried leaves , all now fossils of past ,

So is she , squeezed up , a bundle of match

Eyes hollow , vast as infinity , beyond

Deep down a match so lone , wanting to light

Cold is she , cold as the frost on the fire

But the fire is all dried up in a deep tire

Cracks up , she strikes up , she tries to light up ,

Lacks she a spark that will burn her all up.

Then came he smiling , a tiny green spark ,

Flew up the depths of her hollow dark eyes

Lit up the match that long drenched in the ice.

 

She flared up so high that the world was on fire ,

Blazed up she , glared into melting weak ice

Burned long , she fried up the biased old lives

For she was the glory , she was the light ,

She was the spark that fed the inferno.