If I could write, this is what I would say. Through my eyes your world is far away, through my eyes I see a different world from you, a world that would make you blue. I cannot read they way you can, those signs you see mean nothing to me, directions to ‘here’ and to ‘there’, limits for this and for that, regulations, unending it seems, from what I have been told, when all I can do is to dream.

I cannot partake the way that you do, but my longing to do so would see you through. My understanding of things is like a bundle of tangled string that I cannot undo. I do get frustrated when people pass buy, neither do they help or even ask why. You see, I look at a world that’s different from yours; my world is in many ways blank, like a place covered with floors and without doors.

My mind does not work, so I’ve been told, in the way that it should, and I’m gonna be like this until after I’m old. I’m not very happy, but how can I say ‘I don’t want it to be this way’. They look at me and frown, there all wearing white gowns, most of them have glasses in order to see, but they don’t see the real me. They cannot get through, no matter what I do, I look at them with my eyes, but my message just brings cries, they don’t know what to do and they sigh.

So out in the air I just sit and stare, upon this bench, on this track, I see people like you, I think there just passing through. None of them stop, very few of them look and if they do, they quickly look askew. What is it they see that makes them this way? In the mirror when I look, there not really very different from me, except of course that they communicate, and deliberate, and make things the way they are, but its not all for me, because me, they just do not or will not see!!!

© Richard Walker  3 Sept 2006