You (My Son, Who Is Autistic) Poem by Saima Qureshi

You (My Son, Who Is Autistic)



I: You are not like others.
You: How?
I: Others might be precious metals, stones or pearls but you...
You: Yes what about me, am I not precious?
I: I don't know because when it comes to you I never think of worth.
You: Then...
I: You are like a book that I can read over and over again, you are priceless!

I: You are different from others.
You: How?
I: Others might be meaningful talks, speech or oration but you...
You: Yes what about me, am I meaningless?
I: I don't know because when it comes to you I don't interpret.
You: Then...
I: You are like a poem which is heard by my mind and dwells in my heart!
I: You are different from others.
You: How?
I: Others might be like songs, melodies or symphonies but you...
You: Yes what about me, am I noise?
I: I don't know because when it come to you, I hear nothing else.
You: Then...
I: You are like waves of sea to which I can listen and talk for countless hours!
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Saima Qureshi ©️

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