Alexa ... my daughter

Pitter patter up and down the stairs my daughter goes
And takes an item with her every time, so she might know
What such a thing is called, as she asks her mom again
And twenty times after that...and this is the new trend.
She has to have a label for each thing she holds in hand.
The language that she learns in ways that she best understands.
She's in a world we do not know, experientially.
The patterns that her mind portrays are things we cannot see.
"Autistic" is the word we have, but one thing it is not,
but a spectrum of experience that "normals" haven't got.
She scores behind on many tests of children standardized
But shows talent in many ways not easy to define.
She can't create yet sentences that flow effortlessly
But she seems to know your emotional state, when you she cannot see.
It's difficult for her to stop a temper on the rise
but everyday we're witness to her incandescent smile.
She's not the best at building blocks or following a drill
But her curiosity is never quenchable
Voraciously she reads a lot, as she had taught herself
not the way that I had learned, but by memory and stealth.
Now I'm always grateful, more than ever so before
that I've got a daughter so easy to adore.
For some, what might be punishment,
for me, feels like reward.
Though deserving I am not, that I know for sure.
Nonetheless I'm grateful for the role I have to play
as a guiding hand to a beautiful soul, as she finds her way
in a world that accepts her better than any world before today.