The Grown-up

It wasn’t a magical star
granting a childish wish
that made me grown up,
nor was it an evil wizard’s
vengeful spell
that made me old.

She looked at me,
secure there on my lap,
Pooh flannel ‘jammies’
wrapping her in the security
of being young, and safe
In Daddy’s arms.

I used to fly with Wendy and the boys,
run from pirates with young Jim Hawkins,
that was the boy I was!
It seems only a few minutes ago
Gordon and I fought the Dervishes
at far-away Khartoum.

It wasn’t cosmic stardust,
falling one mystic night,
that wrought this change
from the carefree boy I was,
the discovering, exploring, querying
consumer of countless books.

It was the knowledge, my child,
the sure and wondrous certainty
that you awaited,
with your brother and sisters,
that made me run, singing,
to be here with you today.