I have just been sent this poem by my mum that she dug out from her computer, as I promised to show it to somebody here. It was written by my dd1 when she was ten (now 13), and I thought that some of you might like to share it.
My Little Sister
My little sister doesn?t play with toys,
She can?t talk either, and only makes a noise.
When she plays in the garden she likes to throw her shoes,
Over the neighbours wall or wherever she may choose.
Sometimes it seems she doesn?t understand,
Like she is a special princess, of her own private land.
We don?t know what goes on inside,
Unless she lets us know with a cry or smile so wide.
My little sister is autistic; her ways may seem quite weird,
The world for her is different, sometimes something to be feared.
When she is scared she holds my hand tight, but I can make her laugh,
I play games, give her cuddles and tickles in the bath.
Her hair is red like flames, her eyes dark brown and bright,
She doesn?t know she is pretty or care if her clothes aren?t right.
All her family love her, though she drives us mad,
Still, she is the best sister I could ever have had.