When he started school, I went with him and stayed on many occasions.
There were many other children of similar abilities and ages.
Some children had far greater needs.
The following poem was inspired primarily by my son, but by the other children who were there.
I am but a nectarine,
The skin is what you see,
The flesh is who I really am,
The stone is truly me.
Come and take me as a whole,
And dig and delve within.
You could reach my very soul,
And make my life begin.
Peel the skin,
Taste the flesh,
Gently plant the stone.
See it grow and bear fresh fruit,
To be your very own.
I can offer nothing but
The fruit and all it grows.
Someone there must want me.
It might be you - who knows?
It breaks my heart to wait and rot,
And die this lonely death.
This little fruit can give a lot.
Don't wait 'till my last breath.
Carol Hubbard '83
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