Peter Pan and Tiger Lily

There was once a boy who found no where to be and no where to go 

so he locked himself away in his dreams forever a boy in his Neverland.

He got lost and found some new friends, chasing fairies with his hair in the wind

as he learned how to stand listening to the jams of the Lost Boy Band.

A war cry may echo and boom

from a green boy flying by singing like a loon.  

His boys are wild and his monster will not tame,

but be warned his is not a child friendly game.  

The demon in his eyes stands at the end of bed frames

measuring the scope of their sleeping maims.

His friends grew old and forgot all their names and sit waiting to fill holes of the bowls that pirates chew like jerk in rue.  

Bangarang! is his cry and it will ripple through the sky

as his taunts and laughs rain coy sly.

With threats that playfully challenge as they attempt to say bye

to the catcher of a metaphorical rye.  

He is there to harden your resolve, to help you evolve,

encourage you to solve, all that you are as you reach for the why.

So when you hear his thundering presence above

look for the boy wearing green flying like a dove.

Peter Pan is his name and his role is not for you,

your destiny is different than what he must do. 

His freedom comes at a price that is not new,

something that pulls at his smiles and twists his time through and through.

There was a wild girl who ran free here once upon a time, 

she too knew how to rhyme.  

The price of his crow call wry, the wail of his war cry,

and his ability to fly.

She paid in flesh of bust and musk

as ashes were shared with wind and dust.

And now his lonely frozen heart is filling with rust

as his pen finds words with lust.  

It's the pain he carries within; a gift she gave to him,

and that which he is trying to convey to you. 

She was the girl those crow feathers

and hatchet once belonged to.

Sharpened and cleaned these rarities

reflect teamed solidarities in their similarities.  

With crow feathers perched in hair - a warning to those who dare,

you too are wild thing of crow; screaming beware.  

Their memory will still know the laugh and smile stair

of the wild girl who rode a rainbow horned mare.  

A girl with blood of the natives and soul trying to get through,

a wild thing like you. 

She was packed with courage and always asking who;

you must carry these items now, so you may make it too.  

With the hatchet in hand no obstacle will stand

against a graceful demand it's rumored in the tales of dry land.. 

She moved mountains back then and told stories firsthand

of giant ancients kneeling on command.

She will remain forever precious in the hearts of Neverland,

especially that of Peter Pan and the Lost Boy Band.

The girl of crow if you must know -

was none other than the one from which his stories grow.  

She was Tiger Lily: princess to be and source of his happy thought's shiny glow.

Now you know of Peter Pan and received his gift of feathers for hair and hatchet in hand. 

Turn on your shine's glow and know this is his Neverland -

it's time you find your own spat of dry land.