“You’ve been given the ability to build a magical tunnel that will quickly and secretly connect your home with the location of your choice — anywhere on Earth. Where’s the other end of your tunnel?”
If I could go anywhere, I’d take a one-way trip back to the past. Only now, on the cusp of adulthood, do I truly understand the lure of Peter Pan.
Those winking, half-asleep skies,
Still wrapped in fluffy white clouds-
Lulling dandelion crested emerald seas,
Tossing stalks sweating sweet dew-
Lithesome marauding caterpillars,
Jewel-bright and tirelessly voracious-
Nibbling corpuscular green flesh,
Artfully designing diaphanous canopies-
Pools of squelching robust earth,
Alive with squirming worms:
Ruby-red and salmon-pink,
Flitting in and out of sight-
Coquettish birds, flirting with sunshine,
Dappling dimpled branches in song,
Their nests embraced in leafy boughs,
Alive with myriad possibilities-
They have shrunken with the ravages of time.
I see now only a muddy field,
A clump of scarggly trees-
The magic is lost in forgotten years.
[This poem was a response to a prompt on The Daily Post. ]