A Love Song for Peter Pan

We listened to the ceaseless tick of the clock

in the hall and you spoke about growing old together.

You said, “It wouldn’t be so bad as we thought.”

“Birds,” you claimed, “have both wings and feet.”

 

When I woke the air was filled not with sounds of you

brushing your teeth over the sink or humming

in that way you do, to occupy the silence. Instead

there is only the buzz of the street streaming in

        through the open window.

 

Now all that remains are the sheets that lay

scattered, crumpled, like the restless sea and the Lilly

on the nightstand that has faded. Its petals mark the days,

one at a time and I press each  between the pages

of the book you abandoned, half finished. If only

you had left your shadow behind as well so that in your absence

I could still trace the outline of your body.

 

My mother once warned me about men

who never grow up. If only I had believed.

Reviews

[LastMonth]

So many of the poems here are sad.
Which in a way makes sense,
Venting comes when one has something to let out.

In your case it came out in the form of a beautiful poem.
One that is both sad yet somehow good in my eyes.

What is the good, you ask?
The lesson learned. We can only improve from our mistakes, we need to fall so we can get up better.
Smarter. Truthfully the person that gets up isn't exactly the same, perhaps less joyous and more reserved, but it needed to happen.

Thank you for the thought invoking poem.

[JBoone]

I love this poem. A deep poem that teaches a valuable life lesson. Beautiful imagery and great emotion. Well done.