city stars twinkle above dragonflies
wet grass flattens under our bodies’ core
the flirty wind plays with us and replies
to questions of bubbles we blew before

they said not to hover over fire
grew wary of invincibility
and as we matured with reckless ire
they controlled us with immobility

yet, yearning for the nursery's comfort
hearing the tempting plea of peter pan
but outwardly adamant to assert
never to cry over a spilled milk can

“don’t stop us!” we cry; they respond: “cherish
what you have now before your years perish.”