The Passions of You

Let the flames of passion, burn a little brighter, my love
Don’t hush, don’t rush, let what is to come

For come it shall, and that too soon
A tryst under summer skies, moonlit and in noon

And speak to me the languages of the waves, my love
In nights, as the ocean, laid bare in my arms

Like a tree outside my window, in spring’s bloom
Grow onto me, your love, and your scorn

I take all of you, all that you give
To keep with me for when these times go amiss

For lybbestre, if we are to part
So it shall be, but your spells are on me, to last

In autumn, like a leave, between my fingers and my palm
Your love, to speak the tales of the trees of old

So they speak of us, in turn, when we are long gone
Not true love, perhaps, something a little close

And in winters, when my heart seems dead like the trees
Know, like summers, your love will bring me be

To life, rejuvenated, like never before
The flames in your chest, warm me up, help me grow

So let them burn, hotter than ever before
As I lie in wait, for you to come

And let them burn, my flesh and my soul
Consume me well, consume me whole

For burnt asunder, to a cinder, my love still grows
Hush, rush, let it come home

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