Pall’s Poem
By Stan Morris

I don’t pretend I know a lot,
about the world in which you slide.
It’s hard to speak to people, you know
I’d rather go spacing and hide.

But I see it makes you happy,
to hang out with a group.
And I know you never mind,
when the group becomes a troop.

So I stay by your side and wait to see
if your eyes will turn to me.