Leftover Magic

But I never saw snow in my closet, 

A sultan never knocked at my door,

And windows left open for Peter

Have faded in to childhood lore.

But I pick up my pen

And I'm whole again,

Climbing into my dreams.

Lost in the fate of a world

Where Lions aren't just what they seem.

What if I'm not the special girl in the story?

The one whose wishes all come true?

What if I never feel fairy dust,

And I'm just the shortest straw someone else drew?

No one is ever alone, they tell me,

But the top of their mountain I can't see,

When I'm lying here on the forest floor,

A fallen leaf from a shriveled tree.

But I pick up my pen

And I'm whole again,

Climbing into my dreams.

Lost in the Never of a land,

Where boys hide behind Second star's gleam.

I have not lost my faith in Peter, see,

I just don't believe so much in me.

What leftover magic answers questions

From my students wondering who to be?

But I pick up my pen

And I'm whole again,

Strong to fight for their dreams.

Ready once more to teach a child

That we are Bravest when we choose Belief.