Poem

It was a late summer's eve,

and there was a nice gentle breeze.

I had to drive for a while,

for it was way more than a mile.

It did not seem that far.

Well, I was in a car.

The night was as dark as a cold-blooded heart,

and my trees were like a work of art.

The leaves danced to the wind

as if there were no end.

It seemed as if there was nowhere to go,

except for the fires deep down below.

I used end rhyme, simile, and personification.