Excuse me, She's Autistic


In the store we wait in line
I and my cinderella girl of mine
She spins, twirls,
and her hands make gestures
All in her light blue cinderella gown
Other mothers are there
The glares have begun

Do they not know how precious she is?
How much love is contained in her little body?
Just twirling to get out?
My child is getting louder
shrill sounds pierce the air

The glares demand words

My declaration:
"Excuse me she's Autistic"
I smile

Faces relax -but the glares remain
We move up in line
why can't we in life
Somehow there has to be compromise
How I long for acceptance
for my cinderella girl of mine.

Angela Utley 2008