They didn’t notice him at first low down,
Even though he sat tall right in there,
Conversations flowed right round him,
Sound waves rushed by quite unaware.
Like a calm mossy stone in a choppy river,
Part of the scenery but often overlooked,
An obstacle to avoid or peep underneath,
But you never disturb or let it obstruct.
His solid exterior that’s so hard to break,
The unknown interior unseen by many,
Shiny gemstones or precious metal lie,
Inside hiding things worth a pretty penny.
Gazes avoiding the rock in the riverscape,
Of people’s hands waving front and back,
Life rushing like rain over these individual,
But dripping in the little hole in your mack.
These bedrocks of society are so important,
Rolling round with jobs and many skills,
Hiding inside all their private unseen interiors,
Are treasures that help scale life’s hills.
Interiors made up of wisdom and determination,
Degrees and experiences in there as well,
Disabled people may be hard to see inside,
But they do have some great stories to tell.