Special it moves and grows with the daisies.
Special has motion and is never too lazy.
Special it rises and ebb’s like the sea.
Special is you and special is me.
Special it writes of a world that is good.
Where all of its leaders do just what they should.
Special climbs whenever it falls.
Without our high’s we are nothing at all.
Special has a house of wine and a bendy pen that doesn’t rhyme.
Special lives and special learns and doesn’t grow and often burns.
Special learns he’s right beside the teacher that’s within his mind.
Special succeeds and dances in leaves.
We wallow in ditches and our counties we lead.
Defending our land hiding in sand,
following a scheme of fate that we planned.
Special lies awake at night after a fitful dream.
Special aids another who often came from in between.
Through growth and compassion they gain and learn trust.
Then special and special they both turn to dust.
Copyright G.P Williamson 2014