I’m as old as history,
but frumpy I will never be.
You can replace me - I’m not unique -
at least you have to when I become weak.
My head turns red, when I’m getting hot,
if you’re brave you can touch my soft spot.
I’m melting and burning, I’m like wax in your hands,
it gets dangerous if you want me to dance.
I’m shivering in the season’s breeze,
but without air I can’t feel at ease.
I vanish into thin air, when time goes by,
I’m not a secret lover, so who am I?