Flames of Tucson: The Palm Tree's Lament

Flames of Tucson: The Palm Tree's Lament

by Drakovi Bloodrose 

In the arid lands of Tucson's grasp,

Where the desert winds their secrets rasp,
A palm tree stood, tall and grand,
In the scorching sun's relentless hand.

Its fronds of green, a soothing sight,
A refuge from the heat's cruel bite,
But fate had other plans in store,
A tale of terror, to implore.

One fateful night, the tempest roared,
Dark clouds amassed and spirits soared,
The heavens wept, with thunder's might,
The world aglow with eerie light.

A bolt of lightning, fierce and wild,
Struck the palm tree, once so styled,
A fiery dance, the flames did sway,
In the midst of darkness and dismay.

The desert floor, now bathed in dread,
As sparks flew high, like spirits dead,
The palm tree's silhouette ablaze,
A haunting sight, a fearsome gaze.

The flames licked up the branches bare,
An inferno born from nature's snare,
The sky above, a fiery dome,
An omen of destruction, to roam.

The scorching winds, a devil's breath,
Whispering tales of imminent death,
The palm tree fought, but soon succumbed,
To the fiery grasp that had become.

In Tucson's heart, a mournful cry,
As flames devoured, the tree's goodbye,
The desert wept, its tears so rare,
In mourning for a life laid bare.

Now, when the storm clouds gather high,
And lightning crackles through the sky,
Beware the palm trees, standing tall,
For in their fate, there lies the call.

A chilling tale, forever etched,
Of palm tree's fate, by lightning fetched,
In Tucson's land, the horror's true,
A spectral warning, lest it's you.