TO A SPECIAL BOY

Robbie, we all drag wagons behind us.
Big, red, empty wagons
Waiting for someone to fill them
With some hope, dreams, love.

We pass by different colored houses,
The door opens, we offer a smile
As the door closes again
And we pass on to the next house
Up the endless hill.

They tell me at the top
In an ever-open doorway
Patient, understanding eyes
Watch for us.

First, though, we must pass up the endless hill
Because along the way
There might be other wagons we can fill
With a bright leaf, a white flower or a song.

– Remembering W.Va. poet and disabilities advocate Shirley Klein with a poem from her book “Of Bitter Choice”
© 1983
Used with permission of Mountain State Press