Of pixie dust and pirate ships

She dedicated her life to him.
She was the one who saved him in the first place, flew him to a land of never, where he became all that defined the majestic sun, the rainbow, and the sparkling sea.
She waited with him, encouraged him, when he didn't have any happy thoughts to fly.
She sprinkled him her pixie dust, so he could fly the heights with her - so he could see the world from above.
And together, they traveled all the greatest adventures there were to thread.

And she was the one who shared every glorious, and happy moment with him.

All she wanted was for him to see all the beautiful things she could see.
She loved him enough to share with him all the wonders she knew of.
And meek as she may be - small and insignificant in the way they usually tell the story,
She emits a light so bright, it's impossible to not notice her beauty.

But he wasn't looking. Because he never saw her that way.
What's there to look at? She was very little, and she was so bright,
Why stare at something you already know is beautiful?
Yes, he knew that she was beautiful. What need is there to look further?

Why look for something that's not gone?
Why would he? When she was constantly there, taking care of him, and always followed where he would go.
She was tiny, but her heart was big enough to know what he really is to her.
But she was tiny. And she was so bright - that he never really saw the tears falling from her beguiling eyes.
Have you ever thought of looking past her inveigling nature? She cries, too.

We've all heard the story - the nursery window, Wendy, the thimble and the boy who didn't age.
But has anyone bothered to listen to the story of she who had to watch from outside the nursery window as Wendy gave him a Kiss?
Or how she felt when he took Wendy with them back to Neverland, the only place where she knew knew he was hers.
It's almost as if he'd forgotten her. Because Wendy, Wendy is to whom his heart will always belong to.
No Jane, nor Moira, and certainly no pixie could ever compete.

And 70 years later, the story is still the same.
She was the one who had to watch from outside the same nursery window as he came to visit Wendy, but ended up giving Moira a Thimble in her sleep.
She may be tiny, and at times may seem insignificant to the whole charade, but it doesn't mean it won't matter what she feels.
She was his girl. She was his keeper. And oh, how she loved being his keeper.

She was that girl that waited in the wing.
The girl that nobody paid attention to, while he was so busy falling in love with Wendy.
She was that girl, who watched from outside the nursery window –
Where the chilly evening air would scathe her tiny, fragile body; but it wouldn’t matter.
Because it was nothing compared to the chill that’s suffocating her heart.
Nothing, compared to the thousand daggers that left her bleeding as she saw his lips slowly, and ever so gently touch hers.

And even if he never ended up with Wendy, it wouldn’t matter.
Because he didn’t end up with her, either.