Peter Pan lurking in the shadows,
whilst little children lay in bed.
Not sure who will join the boys tonight.

Eyelids flutter and dreams spew from the young imaginations,
as he waits,
lurking in the shadows.

Tossing, turning, waking for a sip of water,
blanket on, blanket off,
daily sleep routines.

Creeping, sliding, slipping,
against the pitch black walls,
and across the bright light we call the moon.

No one calls him by name,
but when the time is right,
he’s there waiting, lurking in the shadows.

The night is dead,
eyes open wide,
a little boy is looking inside.

Looking into the shadows,
he sees Peter Pan,
Peter holding out his hand.

No one else saw him before,
but this little boy saw him at the door,
waiting patiently, lurking in the shadows.

Hand in hand they walk towards a light,
is it the moon?
no, not tonight.

The lost boys are waiting and so is a man,
now they’ve reached the destination,
Peter lets go of his hand.

Scared and nervous to move an inch,
the man smiles softly,
helping him along.

“Come home my child”,
He says with much love,
the boy steps in, looking down from above.

Peter and the boys return to the night,
Lurking in the shadows,
playing in the moon light.