You Warm Me

My heart    
   
feels    
   
warmer    
   
when you are around.    
   
   
Not quite a fire, more    
Like the gentle warmth    
of the spring sun    
melting into my skin.    
So pleasant and peaceful,    
I close my lids and could believe    
for a moment, there is    
no enmity in the world.    
   
Your movements    
   
are    
   
strange;    
   
fluttery fast hands and slow,    
nearly stomping strides.    
And sometimes, you sprint    
in parking lots.    
It's as if you need to get somewhere    
right now or you will explode.    
But you usually get about    
six feet then stop.    
   
   
Your    
   
presence    
   
is      
   
mighty.    
   
So mighty that many times I can    
Know your feelings    
when words fail you.    
   
But your words are not always easy to read.    
When you're in a closet,    
a scream only tells me where    
you are, not how to get to you.    
   
Small children, tucked in beds a bunk.    
The clouds' tears would patter on the windows    
and angrily bang pots and pans.    
But the clouds did not wake me.    
No I woke to the feeling of small,    
cold hands and feet, wriggling their    
way under my blanket in the top bunk.    
I'd meet the gaze of little tear filled    
eyes, then watch them close waiting    
for them to dream again.    
     
   
You have    
   
my    
   
blood,    
   
my eyes, my promise to be present.    
And without doubt, you lovingly robbed my heart.    
Any stranger could see you smile,    
and hear you chuckle, and you    
would steal theirs too.    
No, they would give it to you.    
How could you not give your heart    
to the source of its warmth.    
   
-For my autistic younger brother, David.