Published on March 9th, 2021 | by Wandajune Bishop-Towle


Why he is not my little boy

Too tall.  
Born too late, too old.

His eyes—lakes of day 
not brown like mine.

He sings too high too loud 
in a language I don’t

speak.  He likes basketball
when I throw for him

watering the garden 
when I hold the hose—

Dad says Smile! 
but he doesn’t look.

I wish he were my boy.  I want 
to believe that in his song 

he wishes he were too.

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About the Author

Wandajune Bishop-Towle is a poet and a licensed psychologist in Massachusetts.  She is the proud stepmother of a young man with autism, who is a frequent subject of her poems.  Her work has appeared in Quiddity, poemmemoirstory, and The Comstock Review, among others.

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