I'm fourteen now.

In fourteen days I'll be fifteen.

A year closer to driving,

a year closer to graduating,

a year farther away from neverland.

From agelessness, from happiness,

from pirates and fairies.

From sitting on the rooftop and smiling,

pointing out the second star to the right,

planing how to comadeer a plane,

and fly there.

And then telling the plan to my Barney doll.

I barely remember it,

you know,

and it scares me.

What if I get old and forget it all?

Forget what it's like to be innocent, trusting.

Turn bitter, and assume everyone else is, too.

I may be able to walk to the mall now,

but I can't fly to neverland.