You were 3 and I read you

Peter pan

For the first time

And you decided you were a

Lost boy;

You belonged in


You played out all the parts,

Katie next door was your


Daddy got to be

Captain Hook

And with a kiss upon my cheek,

You deemed me


But then suddenly

You were 10

And you didn't want

To be

Peter Pan

You hated Katie –

She played with Johnny who

Had been a

"Shitty Smee"

And I grounded you for the

Words; you ran to your

Room and and slammed the

Door – the one that

Still read


Spray painted in black.

Your limbs grew

Too long for your

Body and you checked

Your pointed chin for hair

And you lifted Daddy's

Weights so you could be

Stronger than the rest of

the boys in 7th grade

and I wondered why

it mattered.

I found you a month

Ago with a box full of

Your childhood things,

Playing with the sleeves of a

Peter Pan

Halloween outfit from when

You were 5 and you looked

Up at me with big

Brown eyes that still

Had boyhood mischievousness

And without saying a word

You placed a tattered volume

In my hand; I sat next to you

And cracked open the

Worn cover – your head

Rested upon my shoulder.

You were 13 and I read you

Peter Pan

For the last time

Because the next morning

I found you broken

On the lawn,

Having decided you had

Enough fairy dust to

Make it to the 2nd starl

Here you were a

Lost boy –

An outcast boy and i

Had no idea that Katie

Said mean words behind

Your back and Johnny

Liked to punch you at lunch.

Now I sit in front of your grave,

With your name in bold carved letters

And I read your note over and over

"I'm off to


And I can't bring myself to cry,

Because you belonged there from,

The start.

©The Last Letter