WAY TO FIND NEVERLAND

“Why are you crying, boy? Are you lost?”
In a manner of speaking, yes!
Who’d have guessed I’d find myself here,
a lost boy in the world of learned men.
Nothing but a moral compass always
pointing due North, giving forth all
my heart desires, leaving little in reserve.
My sole existence seems to have swerved
into an unfamiliar place as I face
my aging with as much ambivalence
as that little spark remaining can ignite.
And I declare to “stand up and fight”
as I soar past the second star on the right
and straight on until morning, without warning.
I will take you as my Wendy, a friend
who knows me as well as can be imagined,
a solitary figure at the window living dreams
only read in stories and fables. You are able
to provide the urge to stick to my muse,
and my shadow and everything else that slips away.
No Nana barking in the night, for it just seems right
that the vigilance of such protection is
taken to heart as I start to feel the tingle
of youth long forgotten, slightly rotten
but never totally elusive, or exclusive to my survival.
I feel my spirit lift. A light and airy faerie that
refuses to die since I truly believe, and am relieved
that I am not the only fool clapping; slapping hands
together, whether you can hear me or not.
I can claim my place along with the other lost boys,
the Michael’s and John’s and others, brothers all,
never to fall far from the tree, fulfilling this need,
I know, I have to crow and let my voice be heard,
every word of this fantastic voyage of life,
looking to find a place to land in this Neverland!
When it feels life is giving me the hook
and I’m up to my knees in Smees, it’s a crock
to think that time is ticking away from me.
I’ll find my “Happy Thought” and go do what I ought to,
making as much noise along the way. The second star
to the right is the way to go. And don’t forget to crow!
Walt
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4 thoughts on “WAY TO FIND NEVERLAND

  1. Thanks for all that and more. Pulling through another obstacle with your help and my poetry.Your help? Just knowing I have a "PArtner" who has my back, takes a load off of the same. Funny about the "PArtner" tag. It was a fat fingered typo that seems to work for us, so we perpetuate the rouse. And it has got to hurt like hell to have an end earring, especially when sitting!

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