Jeremy Squire

led a life plain and distant,
shut away, quietly contented,
as a librarian's assistant.

Jeremy Squire
never married, lived alone,
had only three contacts
on his mobile phone:

His mother,
his doctor,
his brother.

Jeremy Squire went to church every
Sunday.
Just three in the congregation;
Praying religiously.

For thanks to God
For thanks for food
For thanks for his family

Jeremy Squire was socially incapable;
unable to make friends,
go out, or be
sociable.

But Jeremy Squire always had a smile;
He found beauty in Everything,
And had the eyes
of a child.

I remember Jeremy Squire,
I remember him so well,
I remember his moods; so far up in Heaven,
and then so far down, in Hell.

Jeremy Squire soldiered bravely on,
Finding courage,
finding solace;
fights lost, battles won.

Over Time, through experience,
He did meet that Someone,
but lacking skills, in certain areas,
She was there and then she was gone.

Jeremy squire, alone again,
Heart broken, mind in pain,
Reverted back to self,
Introverted, but not insane.

Found a life,
found a home
In sheltered housing,
with a way of working,
in routine.

His illness seen,
As something controllable.
Incurable, but certainly durable and
definitely manageable.

Jeremy Squire is not a logistic,
He is a man I knew well,
who was labelled autistic.
A beautiful man, harmless and sincere

Who is mostly far,
far away,
But occasionally
still here.