passion
evident in the fervor of her voice
in the tears in her eyes
she speaks
of dance
and her love of it
(love is not a strong enough word)
she speaks
of her grandmother
and her consistent poise
even as she lay on her deathbed
she speaks
of how you can have that too
that constant grace
(at this point you want to ask if she needs a hug, but you're not brave enough)
you watch her pour her heart out
you listen as she tells you that you can have that passion
(that passion she has for dance)
for something
anything
you want it to be writing
so you go home
and the next day
(it's late when you get home after dance)
you write
a short little piece
(nothing special)
about
passion
###
A/N: Hello! I hoped you enjoyed my first story I've published on here, and if you did, please leave me feedback! I'd like to know what you liked and what you disliked. Also, please please please leave me constructive criticism! I'd love to know how to improve my writing. (The poetry style of my work is intentional, before anyone asks)
So this was inspired by my contemporary teacher on Monday evening. She sat us down before class and basically poured her heart out to us, and it really inspired me. And so, the next day, this was created. And then rewritten. And then rewritten again the next day. And now I've finally gotten around to publishing it!