Neverland

We were Peter and Wendy,
sprinkled with magic flying dust
and steeped above an Appalachian town.
One that cradled the finality of our youth
in its silent hills and small towns and brick paved roads. 
Peter and Wendy,
we were wishing on stars to stop time and
praying for wings to avoid the ground below.
We painted a fairy tale for the disbelievers;
we befriended enchantment,
and conjured spells only we knew.
Our love was magic, 
impossible, like flying dust.
And it began to shatter
the moment we stepped outside
the walls of Neverland.

Danielle Meyer's writing has previously appeared in Angles Literary Magazine and on the online writing community site, Write or Die Tribe, for which she served as a past contributor. She is a graduate of the E.W. Scripps School of Journalism at Ohio University and is currently working as a Senior Communications Associate for an IR and PR agency. She resides in New York City.