Blue and White Squares

Blue and white squares are all I see

Creating a connection with you for me

Pieces of cloth, torn to shreds

The rest of the family with hands in their heads

The blue of the cloth with your ocean eyes

How could such a diagnosis disguise

The way you can touch the souls that you meet

By a simple torn cloth, no better way to greet

It's the blue and white squares that are vital to me

Not whether or not you can count to three

They think you know less than your age, twenty four

But you are the wisest, they know nothing, you know more

You can't read emotions, professionals say

But why is it that when I've had a rough day

It's the blue and white squares on the cloths that you've torn

And you hand me a piece when I'm feeling forlorn

How could you tell? I was smiling at you

It was you who was here, it was me who withdrew

A brother who speaks by handing me strips

Of torn up materials, not using his lips

I love you, he says, not uttering a word

It's the blue and white squares where the love is transferred

When will you talk? Asks the man with a pen

Boxes unticked again and again

You've said more than him with the blue and white squares

Throw away the clipboard, no need for doctors chairs

For nobody else saw when I was consumed with blues

I needed the white from the cloths that you use

As we sat on the step and we tore it together

I suddenly realise we're birds of a feather

My brother, your smile as my joy unlocks

Means far more to me than a ticked doctors box.