Life Through Poetry

Fairly Certain

He walked right past my door.

Can't blame him,

I'm smaller than I used to be.

Even so, I still sparkle.

I tried to fly towards him

But he moved so quickly,

Left me wondering questions of whether.

Only protected from weather by a fairy house.

The dotted mushrooms can cure or crush

And the windows never shut.

If only he were really Peter Pan,

He would never move on.

But then, he would never land.

And I can't fly in the rain.