Sometimes I walk to the end of the road.

Pretend I see you coming, swinging your satchel,

Just like an ordinary boy.

But you, my love

You’ll never go to an ordinary school.


Instead, you stay home with me and sit

Swinging your great legs in your special chair.

Moaning through meals,

Taking your pills.

And twice a year, just for a week or two,

They fetch you into care.

I try to rest.

Except I find it very hard to sleep now,

Worrying about the future.