She tossed the kindling
twigs, dried leaves, and an old piece
of tattered fabric,
at the base of the sturdy bridge.

The wind whipped her white lace dress,
and lightning flashed
as she smiled a secretive grin
before the thunder kicked at the night.

The flames danced with so much grace
under the angry sky,
and she danced with them;
small feral motions and twirls,
as the structure smoked,
and more dancing
always dancing...
until the lovely ruins smoldered
and all that she was left with
was a faded memory
of what the smoke
must have smelled like.