Fading

When the tooth-fairy is a distant memory
and Santa no longer has any energy,
I will know that my childhood has gone.

When books have no pictures and are filled with facts,
and dragons don’t have de-lects for ceiling wax,
I will know that my childhood has gone.

When Harry has grown up,
Edmund, Lucy as well,
I will know that my childhood has gone.

When mummy and daddy don’t come when I call,
and sister is living out somewhere abroad,
I will know that my childhood has gone.

When magical lands which rotate atop trees,
turn out to be fake as Alice’s keys,
I will know that my childhood has gone.

Though it may have left, I really don’t think
there are toys can clean themselves up with a blink.

Imagination is vital, it helps us to grow,
to not just accept and immerse in the quo.

That being said
fairies are different — I’ll always believe,
as when you’re a sceptic, the tree-folk bereave.