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Old spirit without a name

Yet she is known by all

It lurks in the fire and flame

Shining blue and cold

Looking at the poet writing

Watching the sleep of a child

Always prepared to strike

Like a blade in the back

Shape-shifter she is

A were-flame flickering

In terror she bathes

With razor-wings and claws

Though she comes with harm

In lents to rip your heart

She fears the loneliness

And yearns for the warmth