Peter Pan

Last night I dreamt of you.

You came to me by the sky

—just like in that story from your books.

I opened my cold paned windows,

which were frosted by the midnight air.

A chilling breeze tried to race you

through my thick forest green curtains

 but this night you had adventure on your mind

so no wind, wild or timid, had a chance at beating you.

Without missing a step, you leapt

from window sill to bed edge.

I shut the windows,

chasing out the intrusive cold

and returned to the inner warmth of my chamber.

You had already settled down beneath my sheets,

like a child playing hide and seek.

 Smiling, always smiling,

your head peeked up from underneath my covers.

Your twinkling eyes, blue like the spring sky,

caught mine and beckoned me to come closer.

I feigned resistance.

Your lips saw through my charade

and beckoned me closer.