The boy with wheels

The green grass was pressed

into two wandering routes

as the little boy rolled away

toward the trees and their roots.

A voice without words

inside a rigid little frame;

“that boy, he has wheels, mummy”,

diagnosis: his own name.

Caring hands push him onward

to live as much as any other;

a boy who loves what boys love;

a son, a nephew, a brother.

Difference stands between us,

and the child is left unseen;

It defines him and reminds him

of the boy he could have been.

Parallel, he lives

against what he wants to be;

yet he smiles, nonetheless,

the little boy by the tree.


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2 responses to “The boy with wheels”

  1. emarshx says :

    this is really beautiful 🙂

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