When people speak of passion,
They use words like
"Hot", "Fiery", "Burning",
As if passion were always heat.
Heat for me evokes
A clearing in a jungle
Or a beach in sunlight,
A summer day spent driving nails,
And carrying iron rods
Made burning hot by the Sun...
Or hard hot times when I wore,
A helmet, a web belt loaded down,
With ammunition, water, and more,
And carried an M-16.
My passions are never near the surface,
And so,
Do not know, or show, "heat".
They are cold as the color of moonlight,
As it showed me your face,
And your body,
In that moment when we took
All each of us could give.
My passions are cold,
But they are true,
And they always lead me back...
To you.
Donovan Baldwin