Screeching, air piercing wail,
Dawns a new day,
What is it now it, a loud noise, a strange feeling or nothing at all?
An answer for that like searching for stardust
Make do, sooth, sob inside, be happy
If I had him for a week they say,
He would be ironed out all right,
Don’t know how they don’t understand,
Set in their ways I suppose,
Must be nice
More soothing, more joy, more pain and happiness
Rollercoaster every day, hour, minute,
Small victories and stinging defeats live side by side, barely discernible
He’s just spoiled they say
If I had my way, back in my day they blabber on,
They mean well I suppose,
Must be nice
Father of 5, 4 boys who are autistic, hence the subject matter of the poem, a snapshot of dealing with peoples attitudes and their inability to understand