To Myself or Peter Pan

After the days
of the next
have passed,

after the last
of their colors
have drained

from your ear
and their voices
have broken

like glass
and been swept
into a pile of silence.

After the black clouds
have breathed
their last

and Death’s fly
has sailed back
into the calendar,

only then will you
return to yourself,
solely with your

shadow in hand.