A woodland traveller was alone with his torch
Night soon fell and it began to rain of course
He ran at once, afraid of the dark
And he didn’t even notice when from his torch escaped a spark
The spark grew to flame when it hit a dry patch
When suddenly a raindrop took pity on him and emerged from her hatch

It was an unfortunate thing, for the two could not touch
They would both be destroyed, and quickly—in a rush
Nonetheless, she found a way to build him a shelter
The flame only wished that he could find a way to help her
She gave him warmth, she gave him fuel
But soon enough, the sun emerged, and it was bright and cruel

While good for the flame, it didn’t favor the drop
The rays were too bright, and much too hot
The drop slowly shrunk as she turned to vapor in the air
And the flame grew worried as to whom would offer him care
Before he knew it she was gone; an invisible mist
And he just then realized how he had been so selfish

He was without her constant care, to worry and fret
And before he even knew it, the ground was, again, wet
He found himself doused, and turned to smoke without a cry
Where he mingled with the vapors of his raindrop in the sky