The fire

I wave in the breeze, my hair swooshes in the wind,

Campers look up at me in awe, as they touch my rock-hard, spikey bark.

I am ancient.

The animals are patiently waiting for me to drop my seeds.

The scent of my eucalyptus travels to campers in their tents. 

Summer's here, danger lurks, 

Animals leaving me behind. 

The hot fire burns my back, it creeps up on me, all the way to my head!

Everything a blur, red and blue smudges are in the smoke,

but it's too late

I'm already gone.