Bobette Bryan's Poetry
Some Kind of Passion
When you come to me,
don't trot.
Gallop.
I don't want you to
come to me gently
or softly.
I want to
hear the thunder
of your soul.
I want your might
to shake me
until my soul
trembles.
Let your heart
burn and rage
against my flame.
Be a tempest
that roars
into my sky.
For though sunshine
is nice,
it doesn't yield,
by half,
as much passion as thunder.
And soft feathers
may stir me,
but they won't
move me.
So be a savage wind,
furious enough
to break
through these
walls I've built
and bring them
to the ground.
Only then
will I know
that your heart
feels enough for me
to care
and still beats
with some kind
of passion
that calls
my name.
© 2010 Bobette Bryan
Poetry Index
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