When my son is home from uni I, from time to time, take trips to the shops with him. Too often when I do, people (often shop assistants) will speak over me, to him about how I feel or what I want. It is as if they think because I am in a wheelchair, I've lost the ability to communicate. This poem (surprisingly enough) is about that very issue. I hope you are able to read it and maybe relate, maybe just enjoy it.