He never asked for anything,
Because he couldn't, he was mute,
But everyone would speak for him,
They would make demands
About what he wanted,
Without really ever knowing,
And I always wondered why,
If he could communicate for real,
Then why didn't they teach him
To read, type, blink, or sign,
And I decided that maybe
They liked him just as he was,
And I could never decide whether or not
That was good or bad,
But I still always think about him,
And more often in the winter,
The season of the year when he died,
Because in his death,
His life surely came full circle.
Cold.
.......