My Return from Neverland

Growing up is a peculiar thing.
All of us do it, except for Peter Pan.
I am not a Lost Boy,
though perhpas once I was one
of sorts.

When are you "too old to..."
Call your parents "Mommy" and "Daddy"?
Go home to do laundry?
Raid their refrigerator?
Impose on their hospitality?


When is it "OK to..."
Call in sick to work?
Be occasionally "a little bit late"?
Dress casually on a non-casual day of the week?
Sleep in....on Monday?


When did I learn personal responsibility?
When did I become too old to sleep in the nursery?

What happened to those Darling boys and Wendy,
to that flying boy dressed in green
carrying a short sword
and crowing like a bird?

Sprinkle me with fairy dust
and watch how high I fly
to the second star on the right
and straight on, til morning

I returned from Neverland
to trade in my green tights for a business suit
and my sword for my palm piolet.

They told me that
The pen is mightier than the sword
I'm not sure that was the truth.