What worlds turn behind your almond eyes, that ready smile,
that childish innocence that lingers long when you are gone?
I feel your warmth through chubby hands and stubby fingers
of a child. You will not make old bones in this cold life
of sticks and stones and superstitious fears. Some careless god
cut short your years; played blackjack with your chromosomes
in a game that you could never understand. One extra card,
but still, a losing hand.
Cast in a mould that’s neither man nor boy. Simpler some might say;
when each new day brings joy in small things, and laughter cools
your pebble tongue. Your moon face shows no trace of seething rage
or wrong that you will never be the butterfly - trapped within
your caterpillar cage. There are those who taunt you, mock you
say you should be locked away - or lost before you live. They never try
to understand or see beyond appearances, they never know or feel
the love you have to give.
What world do you see? Sometimes it must seem out of reach and cruel.
But you can teach those who will listen, there’s more to you
than meets the eye, that you’re not here just to play their fool.
To know you and to better understand your undemanding needs
we come to better know our own. That compassion shown
with patience is its own reward. Behind our masks sometimes
we all need someone on whom we can depend, and all you ask of us
is see me, be my friend.