Furnace

Once a woman met a grey cloud
That mist was dull, slow, but proud
She seldom wished that it was just a fog,
Who would disappear swiftly like a stray dog
She hid under a tree, but rain poured on her
She lent a helping hand, but life became harder

Hazy sunshine attacked her like mercenaries
Shady thoughts brought her deep and sad memories
That lady was once a lover of windy and breezy days
An admirer of flying leaves ornamented with golden rays
She stood still under the porch; the cool air caressed her face
Despite her compassion, she realized that she was dying in a furnace