Warren.King@f429.n275.z1.fidonet.org (Warren King) (04/11/91)
Index Number: 14740
[This is from the Silent Talk Conference]
The following is a poem written by one of the users of HandiNet B B S
that really needs to be shared with this audience:
For LDH
This lovely child,
nearly grown,
has captured my heart
as surely
as though she were mine.
Sensitive
and sparkling
with alert,
intelligent eyes.
Her world stands
apart from mine,
separated by sounds
that I can hear,
but she cannot.
Voices,
in and out
of range,
incomplete as scenery
viewed
through a slatted fence.
Music,
felt as a vibration
in the air,
on her skin.
Sirens and bells,
a distant
discordant
discomfort,
that causes her to lift
her head
and question me.
The movements
of her hands,
sometimes graceful,
as a leaf
on the wind,
or sharp
and staccato
as the throb
of a drum.
I gather
the words around us
and shape them
in sign
for her to know,
and she, in turn,
teaches me to hear
what is not spoken.
--
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Internet: Warren.King@f429.n275.z1.fidonet.org