Neverland withered
And all the years it had kept at bay fell onto it like vultures
And destroyed it overnight
The mermaids' lake became tar-black and toxic
Their once glistening tail they were so proud of
Became the anchor that drew them to the depths and never let them emerge again
The lost boys lived up to their names
And as for Tiger Lily, she became Hook's little toy
With the broken strings and even more broken pride
Even Peter changed
The boy who had claimed he never wanted to grow old
Shed his innocence and naivety
And replaced them with something much more sinister only an adult could posses
But me?
I still wait at my window every single night
I wait for the sight of a shadow not fitting its object
Or for the glowing shower of pixie dust falling from the sky
Onto a wrinkled hand that could not escape time
My body might have grown up but my soul is static
So I wait till Neverland is mended
And I am reborn with it
Or till time beats me
And bids me one last goodbye
Only meant for a kid
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serendipity
Poetryserendipity; ser·en·dip·i·ty (n.) : finding something good without looking for it. A collection of poems and short stories.