Featherless Angels

I have told this story, a long time ago in a different way. Because its true I would like to tell it again today. It’s a new poem, the story is old, so tell me what you think. This time I relate it for a contest by Empress Ink. It was Summer holidays. Six weeks time off from school, Nothing much to do. Maybe beach or swim at home in the pool. I applied for a job, packing Frisbees in a sheltered workshop. The heat machine was too dangerous, and work had to stop. The hot wire to cut the shrink-wrap might burn the disabled. Four of us were hired for 6 weeks to use it, as “fit” we were labelled. The regular workers considered us a novelty working there, Some people as they passed, us would just stop and stare. So many wonderful people all with disabilities they had, There was a cheery atmosphere, and it didn’t make us feel sad. The workers seemed to help each other and were kind and giving, All doing a great job working in spite of difficulties, earning a living. A young guy managed to ask me if I would sit with him for lunch. I sat next to him at a big table with all the rest of the bunch, Such sweet folk, all happy and bright, Not one of them dwelling on their challenged plight. He invited me but struggled with words, very hard to know what he said. He had a very bad limp, and he continually nodded his head. After that day he beckoned me to lunch with him every chance. The boss said, “don’t worry He’s simple, his name is Lance,“ We all laughed and had fun those days when lunchtime would start. Each one of their personalities went straight to my heart On the last day, when we had finally wrapped the last frisbee, We were saying goodbye, Lance limped up and gave a card to me. It read, My sister wrote this for me. I wish you knew what I was like, Because I wasn’t simple before that accident on my motorbike. My eyes filled with tears, as I hugged him and simply walked away. I still think of him, and all the rest of those featherless angels to this day. Non Fiction.