Make Believe: A Peter Pan Blog Event

The Lost Boy and I

All children, except one, grow up . . . and me.
I tug at his hand, whispering, "Come on! He's near, I can feel him!"
The Lost Boy looks up at me and smiles.
We're almost there, we can almost touch it.
Childhood.

The Lost Boy climbs high searching, ever searching. He says, "He'll come, just wait."
We wait, we listen. This is the place and we begin looking, looking for those memories.


"It's here . . . somewhere," I say, and follow a winding path.


Just one last glimpse of those happy days, just one last time I hope he'll grant.


Here we sit and wait, a lost boy and girl, searching the skies, hoping ever hoping.



"I see him! Oh, I see him! He's come back! Will he remember? Will he know?"

Appearing from whence we left him, with his faithful fairy alight. It's Peter Pan!
How like the child he ever was! How sweet the innocent, yet wonderful face!
How much I long to be . . . like he is.
Golden hues fill the forest, transforming it to a world far beyond all earthly thought.
Neverland.

"Hello, Tink." And she pulls my hair, her bells tinkling in remembrance.

"Come play with us," she says, "come away to Neverland."
We fill the skies as once before, with glory no photo could capture.

Laughter resounds as we bounce the clouds and steal Smea's hat whilst he sleeps!
The memory's all mine, you see, mine and the Lost Boy's.
And that's the way it should be.
We do whatever we wish, scorning what people call impossible.
Children again, we touch the rainbow and swim the skies to the moon!
We land on the Clock of London and jump into pools of stars.
And when we finish, Peter flies us back to earth, and then away, a bright star in the heavens.

The Lost Boy scampers back up the path, singing his joys of the day! 

He'll return tomorrow and Peter will come back for him.

But I linger, watching still.
I know.

Peter will always come back, as long as there is faith.
"I'll always believe in you Peter Pan," I whisper.
I'm barred forever from that land for I'm all grown up.
But in my heart. . . "all children, except one, grow up " . . . and me.