The memories of my past Revisit me at this hour...

(Narrow alley, Córdoba, Spain)

 photo & poem © Jesús Montero

GROUND ZERO + 2

The memories of my past

Revisit me at this hour.

Like ghosts.

They come

Knocking on my door.

Long awaited.

The hands of my watch

Revisit every second

Of every hour.

Painfully.

Anticlockwise.

A waterfall of tears

Floods 

Every inch of the ground,

Satiating all the ache

That has been

There, embedded

Through the years.

Leaving behind

An impeccable void.

My very own

Ground Zero.

Suddenly

The clouds break,

Letting the sun shine.

In tiny, 

Little whispers.

The scent of fresh, new grass

Dawning in front of mine eyes.

Like a lullaby.

 photo & poem © Jesús Montero

Like a bee Drawn to flowers...

(Cherry blossom, Notting Hill) 

  photo & poem © Jesús Montero

Like a bee

Drawn to flowers,

Like a midnight desire.

I, I, I, need you.

Like the rain

When there’s fire

Like the prayer

For things dire.

I, I, I, need you.

Like a town

Needs a Crier

Or a prison barbed-wire.

I, I, I, need you.

Like a boy

Sweets require

Or the Phoenix, a fire.

I, I, I, I need you.

Like the paint

On a canvas,

Like the voice of a choir.

I, I, I need you.

Like the church

Needs a Friar

Or Robin Hood needs a Marian.

I, I, I, I need you.  

photo & poem © Jesús Montero