Hope is a breeze across an open field.
Anger comes from pounding on a door,
Positive one wants the door to yield.
Perhaps from this one senses something more.
Yearning is a song to wake the dead.
Not knowing that to have must mean to kill.
There is no deed that documents love''s fire;
In lovers'' hearts, one comes and goes at will.
Need is a wind that strips the landscape bare;
Eventually one turns, and love is there.