A poem about and for the imagination. The poem is featured in the new issue of the ezine Wilmingtonblues at Wilmingtonblues.com.

The kids are in the back room drinking orange juice cocktails.
Whittling away hours playing 52-pickup
while their folks play games and exchange rooms
with their adult hearts in mind.

What a shame!

Still somewhere in the house is another kid bored and crying
is wandering through mazes in never-man's land.

And so this is the never-man's plan
to take the lad in hand
so his world can rise again on another carousel planet.

Time walks by in this labyrinth dressed in black
looking for candy lilies to eat.

Is it any wonder moonbeams sparkle on the ponds
like ice sheets, you can walk across them barefoot.

The cold calm clarity swells in your brain
from the lake front air.
While the never-man laughs
says it's all in your heart
and melts in your dreams.

The lad wanders on to find the exit
there's goblins, ghouls, beggars and fools
helpers, yelpers, and strangers with cues
looking for detective shacks that sell funny clues
with maps that go nowhere straight.

Stopping in a country kitchen somewhere south
he gets a burger with fries and drink from the sky
carried by a monster whose really a clown in disguise.

He makes the lad feel better than goes his way.

Near the exit, there's a rat race for apples and oranges
A mouse wins by a nose. He's heralded for his greatness.
You won't see his name in the paper
They arrested him for leaving vapor trails.

It's been a long night running, the games are finished
everyone's gone to sleep weary - their idiocy secure.

The lad's in his room listening.
The never-man by his side telling another tale
when time was dressed in a white tuxedo
and ruled a kindly world.