They call her a square peg <br />She's my soft, simple primrose in <br />a garden of orchids. <br /> <br /> <br />She's their public joke <br />A helpless scapegoat caught in a <br />Cross-fire of the so-called sane. <br /> <br />And she's my pride: <br />A girl who makes me realize <br />The tangibility <br />poignancy <br />The existential quality of <br />Life. <br /> <br />But even they make allowances. <br />They call her beautiful. <br />Yes, she's that... <br />Fine of face with <br />Large, long-lashed <br />Lackadaisical eyes. <br /> <br />That's what hits them. <br /> <br />And I love her- <br />Despite the fact that she'll never <br />understand it. <br /> <br />Because she'll always be in <br />Her own world; <br />That comforts, consoles her <br />When the outside world hurts. <br /> <br />They call her an autistic. <br />But she's my magic child. <br /> <br /> <br />1984<br /><br />Usha Pisharody<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-magic-child/