KarinaRose

Just one look,
and you will see,
the wooden bit,
that hides within me.

The grassy trees,
and the steady pine,
are the things that hold me
tighter than twine.

But when the sun shines bright,
and lights the brown — it’s dire,
the wood turns to orange
my eyes shine with fire.

The only question is will it consume
my forest in its molten fume.