Listen, I have something to tell you,
In my place of work we have a baby boy,
Not an infant, not a toddler, neither is he a grader,
He is a teenager and his name is Nico,
He is no ordinary because he is a special boy.
He cannot talk, he cannot hear,
He’s often not neat sometimes wears no shoes,
Everybody wants to keep him around,
To make sure he’s safe and sound
Everybody takes care of him.
At times the gentlemen bathe him,
The ladies bring clothings for him too,
Some give him candies, some give him food
Some bring him toys the stuff he likes the most.
At going home time some give him money
Enough to buy him food and his family.
Did you know dear Nico goes to school too?
A special school for children like him,
No less than but U.P. Diliman,
Where he learns his ABCs and counting too
Including his sign language which
We all have learned to use.
I do not know how long will Nico be with us,
What I know is, he too has already learned to love us
For whenever he sees us anywhere,
He touches us to acknowledge our presence.
His gesture is enough to make us happy.
An attempt to write a happy poem to forego the dying me.
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