Outside is where I am.
Over here in silence…..
I hear, see and feel all that you are…
Won’t you share….
I like to..
To follow words through fields of memory that bloom from branches of time.
Seeds of life and cycles of various vision.
They become aspirations of what seems to exist.
The fruit ripens, becomes of sweet taste.
It runs through my veins, out my fingertips and upon your surface.
Your mind my canvas and your body the texture of my paint.
I see the inside of your kiss and listen for the tone of your heart.
Where do you come from?
Backyards or foreign lands?
So close or so distant from where you should be.
Do i understand or stand with constant confusion?
Those voices create visual satisfaction within my mind.
Your face of no picture.
Your touch is upon my chest.
Your scent brings me home.
Dear and so creative to my soul,
Constant you are in my pupils…
From the other side…
Monty Montgomery Copyright 2003