I play pirate with my wooden sword
An eye patch I’ve gone blind to.
My mother knocks on my door
With a candle in her hand
A finger on the light switch.
I plead her to let me stay up,
The stars are here to play
And I am too.
My cries do not help
As she lifts the patch from my face.

“Will you sing to me?” I whisper
As she tucks me in with a grin 
Feeling her lips at my ear,
She hums.

“I have a place where dreams are born,
And time is never planned.
It might be miles beyond the moon,
Or right there where you stand.
Just keep an open mind,
And then suddenly you'll find
Neverland…”

Caressing my cheek, her kiss goodnight
Stains my forehead.
The light slowly dimming
As she leaves the room.
Leaving me to dream of the place
Of my mother’s lyrics,
Only to be awoken by my father on the
other side of paper-thin walls.
“Stop putting silly stories through his head!”
Walls rumbled.
“He’s just a boy…”
Floors creek.
“He needs to stop playing such childish games.
It’s time for him to grow up.”

Eyes pried wide to a gust of wind.
Shutters fly open to winter's night.
Slip out from under the warm wool blanket,
Entranced towards the moonlit balcony
Left foot.
Right foot.
Snow crunches under my bare toes,
The chilly air nipping at my skin.
The wind whispers in my ear.

“It's not on any chart,
You must find it with your heart.”
A glimmer in the corner of my eye.
Turn to see the brightest star
Perched upon the blanket in the sky.
Second to the right of a moon,
Too big to imagine.

I am Peterson Pangallo
But you can call me Pan.