Here I still peter but feeling more like father time
Old adventure seeking eyes only seek what is long gone
Petite cream, with bleached wheat spilling round her face
Barrie's nectar couldn’t compare to her mind, savvy sweet
Years aged into decades but I didn’t
lying of what truly made me fly
Not the mother I never knew, but the goddess of which I came to
Small hands moved my heart now its is all just a fantasy
But as I taste my end near aren’t we all just gods fantasy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem