Night of Memories

The white nights of summer, When Peter sat perched on my sill, While the stars collected wishes, Are merely memories. Gone are the fairies that frolicked in the roses, The passageways to Narnia are sealed. No more whimsical blowing on dandelions, It might as well have been a dream. Mr. McGregor has long ceased Chasing naughty bunnies. There are no more imaginary boats to plunder, No more far-off worlds to claim. Yet sometimes it seems, That there is a shadow in the old nursery- A flutter of movement, That leaves you dazed. There might be (you hope) A conversation occurring between that Faded rabbit and The old rocking horse. Sometimes the moon is bright, And you believe in fairies again. (Perhaps a child’s laugh Is as magical as they claim.) And suddenly you forget that You are grown up- Banished from Neverland Straying far from the Hundred-Acre Wood. You open your eyes and they call your name, Those wonderful childhood friends. As they skip away into the night, A haunting echo- “Second star on the right.”