Said this world was not for me
I nodded in agreement but –
The fact was I’m too old to fly.
Perhaps two years ago or three
Adulthood wouldn’t weigh me down.
Play, play, play
Had coalesced to work, work, work.
A thimble couldn’t keep me young
No more than clowns could make me smile.
Irony, morose ideals were all that tickled me
No matter how I longed to laugh at simple things.
My joy of fairies had been replaced with disco balls
And black lights glowing shirts in bars.
If I left for Netherland, my mortgages would go unpaid
My 720 credit rating might drop down –
I closed my eyes and wept inside;
The only safe place for Adults to cry.
What had I become?
Anything was possible back then
I could have been a ringmaster
Leading lions at the circus
To vast applause and awe.
Why had it become so hard?
There was no answer
And I wish I understood
How explorers dared to brave new worlds
When all their peers would laugh at them.
Columbus was a child
But far from dead inside.
I tried to clear my mind
From all impossibility.
And, as I flew
I knew the truth.
The Great Adults through history
Had never given up on mystery.