An Ode to Peter

Jam
Jam
Nov 7 · 2 min read

N/A: My world lit professor once saw me on the hallways of my university, a semester after our class ended. She called me Peter Pan.

A childhood fantasy, they tell him as

Of a flying man to the second star above

Exploring worlds through glimmering pixie dust

Whose shadow paints the dull canvass of the sky and ember

A galaxy unraveled, constellations mounting the clouds

Where he hears the children’s calls of growing up never

“Dear Peter Pan,” a lad wrote one day

“Why won’t you come and take me away?

Because growing up is not what I have planned

Please take me away to Neverland.”

A land of eternity, his kingdom come

Where lost children wander, but never gone

Where the trees cower like the loud weeping in the night

Where the song of summer becomes a snapping winter fright

The cry of the children who miss their mothers

When the lightness falls to slumber and asks for arms that will embrace

And all of these things he can never offer

For he is a King and they can only fall upon his grace

“Dear Peter Pan,” the lad wrote once again

“As a child you were adored by I and forever would, but then

One will always grow up and for that they need their mother

but none of these, a King nor a friend could ever offer.”

His beautiful eyes glimmer with tears like pixie dust

For the love and adoration that once was held are now replaced by disgust

Peter Pan, they still call his name

By their windowsills, yearning not to age

Oh how foolish, but it is to love

A man who flies to the second star above

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