Sitting on the edge they made a border
That distances them from the world that turns,
From the cloud they wove of whispers,
Making words together, tending pages
That they saved from the fire,
Away in a place only the moon will know.
This is all those boys will know
Fast within their misty border,
Never burnt away by the dawning fire
Brought by the world that turns,
Turning through clouds and dreams and pages
Reduced to strands of silk-worm whispers.
But the sun cannot destroy the whispers
The ticking crocodile will never catch, it knows
Deep down in the clouds and dreams and pages
All written and dreamt in this moonlit border,
They sleep under the star-shaped leaves that turns
To gold in the winds and dance in fairy-fire.
They are not afraid of the fire
That speaks in bright warm whispers
About the great wide world that turns
While they stay still, will never know
Anything but summer, their dream-line border
Is kept cubby-hole safe within the pages.
Forever young in Neverland pages,
First star on the right straight past the fire
Into the great beyond they border
On greatness, their feet only whispers
On the rug as they tiptoe, because they know
That the world is not the only thing that turns.
Now the moon is the only thing that turns
In hook-worn, shadow-stitched pages,
Flying away on the happiest things they know,
On mermaid tails and Indian fires,
On the Lost Boy’s night time whispers
In a misty, twisting crazy eight border.
Daring Peter turns with Tiger Lily fire,
Crinkled Wendy pages soothing John and Michael whispers,
Their stolen moon-ship knows no ink-made borders.
(c) christine DINGLEY 2010