A riot of colors
he fills the room or
field or heart.
Feeling his way through
as only he
can with smiles and tugs,
until everything tumbles
onto him.
There he will sit
among the pieces he has collected
tasting everything
to learn its essence
the stuff behind the shape
or use.
Up again
going
going
where is the up that
he can reach?
To find
more parts of his world
to taste
until he is full of textures
and shapes.
With tears
he drifts away from
some of his collection
that
has not been stored
in memory through the tips
of his fingers
and the width of his tongue.
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