Life in Poetry: Peter Pan

Sometimes rhyming, sometimes lyrical, sometimes nonsensical, I cannot fathom or control the way of my pen upon sunset or twilight. In the near dark I see life in true light. I hope you'll grab a pen and pretty book and start your own tradition of living thankfully, vividly, truly...

He is beautiful. Fair and fanciful.

Yet-- not femininely so.

A boy he is.

But a beautiful boy.

He-- so sweetly-- makes a specialty drink for me. It tastes of sparkling goodness, pink and yellow, but the gesture is more delectable.

Am I this starved and lonely?

I half think

As he watches me drink

That perhaps I drink a spell.

And whether I fear

Or whether I hope

I can hardly quite tell.

Perhaps I'll wake in his fairy-land.

And he'll reveal himself

As Peter Pan.

And release me? He shan't.

Unless I best him in tag.

We'll adventure and play until twilight.

When we'll find an inn

With a storyteller

And a fire

And scones and tea--

And be happy.

But to see vividly

To see the poetry

To live dreamy

Need not make a fool of me.

And in dreams he's a sprite

But in crisp and clear light

He's a boy. And...

I know that he whines.

I know he hogs toilets.

I can't imagine his closet.

I know I don't know half of it.

I know that every girl in his whole wide world

Is surrendered to the illusion

I allow only dabbling in.

I know none of them

Would love him

Like me

I also know

That's why he'll abandon me.

Because he can always have me.

Now a friend to me.

Tomorrow lost to me.

As always is with me.

In rainy twilight

He's my dreamy lad

In rainy twilight

He's my Peter Pan.

But in haze we'll stay.

'Us' will stay

'He and I' stay

'Love' will stay

Mere heart-bubbling illusions...

All that my secret dream is.