All grown-ups were children first. (But
few remember it.)
The one-of-a-kind heirloom
under glass is roped off,
a proper distance
from museum onlookers
who afford a pocket-sized price
to applaud, not hold
dear to heart,
trumpeted treasure.
The search for fulfilling riches
at reasonable cost
overflows to streets
onto big-box stores and back-alley
vendors with knock-off deals.
Possessions glitter the path to satisfied
heartbeats despite night’s
isolation.
Having more seems happier
for many adults.
Once they’ve outgrown Neverland,
men and women get painted over
by agendas,
forget how to feed themselves
by fairies, pirates, and mermaids.
Lost from to-do lists is one-of-a-kind Pan,
clad in skeleton leaves
and juices that flow from trees,
© Patsy Asunción, 2017
Pan and Wendy, cover, 1915 from Wikimedia Commons |
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