When we were five, every day
was like a new present.
We were literally like kids on Christmas,
but every day was a holiday.
We get to see Grandma today.
We get to play with our new friend.
We get to cuddle our dolls
race our trucks
be an astronaut
be a doctor
and every day was unique
in only the slightest ways,
but just enough to make
every day a new present.
I am not sure when it changed
but somewhere down the line
time is no longer a gift
but rather a monster we fight
like the dragons and demons
we used to fight in our dreams.
Maybe it starts when school becomes
less about playtime
and more about math time,
with little to break it up in between.
Maybe it starts when the nine to five arrives,
and we can no longer distinguish
between a Monday and a Friday.
There's no distinct answer
and maybe we can't defeat the beast,
but perhaps we can tame it
and befriend it again.
The dragon goes from a fire-breathing monster,
to a friendly creature again,
content to toast our marshmellows
and fly us over the seven seas.
When we're ready to give up,
to let the dragon drag us to the end
with its sharp teeth dug in,
remember when it spread its wings
and flew you to Neverland.
Let Neverland be your home for a while,
never grow up, there's no need.
Play with the dragon again,
and it will be too distracted to leave
to move forward and you yourself
will be too distracted to notice
when it does manage to move again.
And it doesn't matter when it does
because you held the memories with the dragon
and you'll make more
until the day he comes and bows to you,
letting you climb on his back
and carry you into the sky.