She doesn't know what day it is
Oblivious to all
Her childlike squeels pierce the air
To spectres in the hall

Somewhere nearing middle age
Still living with her mother
She's heard throughout the neighborhood
Delighting in 'no other'

I haven't crossed the street, as yet
To meet them, though I should
She waves and sings, out on her porch
To passers by, that could

It doesn't seem too lonely
The world inwhich she lives
Filled with fancy, in her mind
That childhood often gives

The sadness is, she'll never know
The world, like me or you
But then...perhjaps she's lucky
Because she hasn't got a clue

* there is a little lady that lives across the street from me, who is mentally handicapped. i have never heard her unhappy. i can now understand one passage in the bible that i have read...that only as a little child can we pass through the gates of heaven. i know her place has been reserved.....my love, always...k