Autisticus
What’s that in the sky, Dad?
asked my son
You know my son?
my number one
Son, that’s a plane, I told him plain
yet so often explained, he would ask me again
Beginning to dawn - something not right
My son who'd given me such delight
My boy I’d nursed through dark of night
Confined to a world of fear, of fright.
His lists and rituals - I never knew,
Yet here were the pointers, here were the clues
A code understood then by so very few,
To what set him apart
From me... from you.
What’s that in the sky, Dad?
asked my son
You know my son?
my number one
Son, that’s a plane, I told him plain
yet so often explained, he would ask me again
Beginning to dawn - something not right
My son who'd given me such delight
My boy I’d nursed through dark of night
Confined to a world of fear, of fright.
His lists and rituals - I never knew,
Yet here were the pointers, here were the clues
A code understood then by so very few,
To what set him apart
From me... from you.
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