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Christo Small one, so precious, so unique quiet reserve construes Mom’s frustrated angry response All your blocks neat stacked and layered balls, cars and trucks row lined all placed by number and color Hidden world within a world holds your thoughts close inside with tiny fingers clenched tightly Your steps counted, your gate metered almost a secret dance mustn’t deviate or tears flow One path our morning walk to take no people’s noise or touch to skew your brow shattering rhythm Nana’s loving hand your safety side by side moving as one fallen feather threatens routine Sudden halt, eyes large in fixed stare small coo from under breath bending slight, feather your delight Three slide steps, stop, feather held high two taps on the air, of all else unaware three steps, two taps with precise care Perhaps someday your world you’ll share |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2015-02-07 10:20:39
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Lora, you always manage to bring an intuitive nature to what you write. It is as if the reader has joined the moment, in feelings, sight and action.
I would like to be prescient and say I know all that is going on here, and I probably have missed the point- but I have also deliberated and taken the writing into the story, into my experiences, into the hope you ended with.
I’ve known (as I read this) mother’s (and father’s) who have struggled with autistic children, and I know those now who deal with Alzheimer’s, the pressures are very similar. There is hope of the autistic, and lacking such (at the moment) for those afflicted in an older age. This is a child, as that hope reaches into the future.
The story is compelling, real and alive, which is the remarkable thought that resounds with the necessity.
Well done (if I butchered it, I still enjoyed it).