Neverland

They told me of an island

Fraught with magic

With faeries and thick-brush swamps

Wild mysticism, untamed innocence

children go there in their dreams

To the legend

Where the pure

ones dwell.

Ruled by a mischievous boy

The young spitting image of Hermes

Dressed in green

I wished hard

For the night

I’d escape from the window

Be lighter than the wind

Fly.

Fly, fly away to the Neverland.

I suppose I can’t now.

  

I’m too old.

Even in my youth, I’m

weighed by my knowledge

changing

slowly becoming chained to this earth

I can’t be an astronaut.

I can’t fly to the moon.

I can’t grow wings.

I spit words out of my mouth

Like gold

They—adults—are beginning to listen to me now.

Worn down by years

Marked by sin

Illuminated with wisdom

I am becoming them

Slowly

Sinking

Into their beautiful

Elaborate

Sad

world.

I am no longer

That whimsical child

Asleep on top of

The book of fairy tales.

I can’t escape through my dreams

Now.

Maybe it’s called the Neverland

For a reason.