The heat, It rises.

The destruction is complete,

And the smoke, it arises.

The horror and fear,

Drift on the breeze.

The scene is unclear,

As the smog has reached far trees.

A cool breeze blows,

As fire trucks rush to place.

A cooling rain flows,

Adding to the terrible grace.

Now it is done,

And the terror is over.

The race has been run,

And found was cover.

But like any dreamer knows,

The spirit lives on.

Like crimson on a rose,

Though faded, it is never gone.

I see it in dreams,

Haunting me.

I hear their screams,

And so I plea,

Spirit of Fire, please... Leave me be...