The window is shut, there’s no other way in.
Wendy dear, is it true? Is it true that Peter loved you?
You flew amongst the stars, his hand in yours, to a land far away. The stories say it was the start of a wonderful adventure.
At what part did your feet touch the ground again?
At what part did you know that reality will always look different for those very lost boys?
Somehow you’ve grown too old for flying, and to convince him to change would be futile.
Once asleep on soft beds of grass, dreams of remembered things forgotten again, you wake to find he disappeared.
Peter love, where have you gone?
There is no magic without you here. Poor Peter without his Wendy.
There is no hope when you leave. Sweet Wendy without her Peter.
But is that the end of the story?
For to keep your window open, even just the latch, would be the greatest adventure.
A Series of Observations 