From the Wendy House by Angela Topping

From the Wendy House

”Cramful of adventures” he’d promised, but this place
is packed with scruffy boys who can’t stop
walking planks and smoking peace pipes –
games they think too rough for me, their Wendy-bird.
They want me for Mother, darning socks, sewing pockets,
worrying what to cook them for their tea.

Peter doesn’t really want to hear of Cinderella’s bliss,
would have her picking over lentils,
peeling spuds forever, never find her Prince.
It wouldn’t be so bad if he’d play with me
but he wants to be one of the boys, not prepared
for Fatherhood. Why is it me that must grow up?

Yanking me from a warm nursery for this!
Whizzing my head with dazzling words, making me
feel light enough to soar between the stars.