Monday, February 25, 2008

Dear Peter.

Call me when you get back from Never-Neverland,
sometimes I just want to touch you.
Your silk hair, wrapped around my tongue,
your pink face swallowing mine by midnight candle light.
How many miles did you travel?
How many stars to the right is it again?
Did you bring the boys home with you? How long have they been lost?
They can live in our attic, and basement, and sock drawer.
We can adopt them all and live in a shoe
and eat the gingerbread shingles and gumdrop roof of our house.
Let's drink to grassy knolls and Tinkerbell
and Hook's missing hand,
some things are as timeless as breathing.

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