Behold my size, I’m considered a God! A fatal taste of me and you may not grow old. I may be a gigantic blazing clod, or I may help in measures of the cold.

A capsule of memory, so silent and still, At home on the mantle, yet I may cause a chill. One who danced with the fire, now cold to the touch, I cradle what’s left, when there once was so much.

Where buildings are without living people Where plants have taken control Where the silence can be disturbing, yet the voice of a stranger is even scarier

You see me and take a pause. Yet you also use me to remember times near and far. Students know me well as they watch the clock. As a matter of fact, you see me now.

My infamy I must defend By burning of my whiskers’ end Buccaneering is what I teach And I’ve shipwrecked on an eastern beach