Our son was ill, brain disorder
His seizures weren't that bad,
Still hindered him from living life
Like any other lad.
At twenty two, he'd still no car,
Still travelling on the bus,
His older siblings all could drive,
As could the two of us.
He longed for independence great,
A bicycle he'd ride,
And though it only had two wheels,
It kept him satisfied.
But then one night he had a dream,
Was driving far and near,
The licence number "LIA"
For him "was a good year".
Now fifteen years have passed him by,
His seizures disappeared,
The day he passed his driving test,
How mum and I both cheered.