Mama
Mama
Mama, I think in only pictures,
and fight for every word.
I babble songs and stories,
and dream I will be heard.
My little toys I line up,
in a big parade.
I spin and dance to music,
silent in a way.
Mama, hold me close,
in your heart if not your arms.
I can not bear your touch,
but I do so love your charms.
Papa, don't be sad for me.
I believe I will be fine.
God he has his hand on me,
and keeps it there...
all the time.
by Robert's Mom
A. Foster
Autism steals and takes... hold on to those you love,
with all your heart. Ann Foster BooksbyAFoster.com
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