A Spark

I played with fire, now I am burnt. Too bad it didn't hurt. Too bad it was just a spark, and that it burnt out, before it could start. Not even ash, it's just smoke. Blown by the wind, into a joke. Not even ash, to rise up from. It's just smoke, which falls so low. Blown by the wind, into the night, looking for my mind, which sought the light. The light of the spark is not so bright. but just enough to keep away the dark. A glimpse of light, is all I need, to burn again like old leaves so there's at least something, that I will leave.