the Problem with Mr Pan

Oh Peter
you can grow up
without growing old

Time eats away the scarred tissues
the dead layers of integument
gathered like geologic layers
beside the back porch

fear is never a good house guest
It never knows when to leave
and it goes through your pockets
while you sleep

Pete, buddy
If you don’t get a grip
You become the thing you fear most

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

3 thoughts on “the Problem with Mr Pan”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s