A poem/story promoting Autism Awareness. The lonely little fish. I am a lonely little fish, swimming in the sea, All on my own, no one notices me. My colours are not sparkling, my scales are dull, I swim by myself, but the ocean is full. I want to make some friends, I just don’t know…… Continue reading The lonely little fish.
I hold her close, Up to my nose, Breathe her in, Feel her warmth on my skin, Hug her tight, Kiss her goodnight, Let the stress of the day, Float away, Read her a story, Whisper I’m sorry, For being demanding, For not understanding, Stroke her head, Settle her in bed, Tell her I love…… Continue reading Good night.
If everything was orange, Or everything was green, You’d think the world we live in now Was the strangest thing you’d seen. Imagine it all one colour, Every single thing you see, The leaves, the grass, the houses, the sky, Even you and me. You’d want to have something different, To have shoes or lips…… Continue reading If everything was orange….
Just a little baby, snuggled cosy on my chest, I promised I’d be there for you, to always try my best, To give you all my love, and guide you through the years, To join in with your giggles, and wipe away your tears. You cried and cried and cried and cried and didn’t sleep…… Continue reading I love you.
A broken cup……or me? Sitting still, Chaos around me, I’ve gone cold, Inside’s empty, The shouts get louder, I know how it goes, The afterschool meltdown, The whole street knows. Standing still, In view; exposed, I am drained, The door is closed, Meltdown continues, I want to flee, I’m stuck here watching, Please don’t touch…… Continue reading Broken.
Support Groups. When what’s holding you together is paper and string, When you’re stretched to the limit, your patience worn thin, When you’re asking and asking for things to be done, When your crying out for help and still getting none, When you’ve had a bad day and have nowhere to turn, When behaviours are…… Continue reading Support Groups, a poem.
When I wake him he can’t believe its morning, He greets me with a stretch, still yawning, Blinking as his eyes adjust to the day light, Tired as his sister kept him awake all night, Climbing out of bed, grabbing his clothes, Creeping down the stairs on his tip toes, Trying to avoid disturbing his…… Continue reading Our Young Carer.