Peter Pan hits maturity

He outstretched his palms, in delightful anticipation, the sea swallows song gains momentum,
As they circled the fluctuating tide, he did not know himself in the watery reflection,
An empty shell of a man looked out, his eyes reaching out in desperation,
Trying to grasp the last strands of his former self, this had seemed to set sail,
With the pirate’s long ago, Yet he had only just realised with the thinning of his hair,
A last ditch attempt to fulfil a childish wish, he didn’t know whether he should run,
To the end of the pier, fling himself into the icy waters, and hope with all his heart,
That he would wake up, and be washed ashore a distant land.

Where like Peter Pan, he would be forever young and carefree, fat chance,
As realism hit him in a devastating way, as if mocking his enthusiasm,
Or he could hid away, bury himself in these sandy dunes, let the sand mould him,
Into everything he wished he could be, should be, Or he could simply relax and let go, let the wind
Carry him, gently float him into the horizon, let it guide him into his new chapter of life,
exactly where he needs to be, where he will remain as unaware as a single ripple in the vast ocean,
Indifferent, yet, delicate and prone to damage, unique and as important as one another.