I recall the rustic leaves,
and the sound they made when crushed
under skateboard wheels,
as they settled around the half-pipe
and the worn rails of Peter Pan Park.
Youngsters,
with their colorful helmets and their
better-safe-than-sorry knee pads,
kicked and pushed their way across the pavement
and pumped their fists in the air
as their boards reached the other side.
In this Neverland, the kids wanted adventure first -
the tea could wait at home for a little longer.
But, as dusk settles,
the pirates emerge upon the asphalt shores
in fleets of tinted windows and loud exhausts.
These pirates, still adolescent in their own age,
bicker and fight until a hook pierces skin,
blood spills upon the crisp leaves,
and a boy - with naiveness still glistening in his eyes -
becomes another boy who would not grow up
in the Never Never of Peter Pan Park.