As every person knows, every child grows up, except one. Peter Pan never aged a day after setting foot in Neverland. The lost boys followed his example, but as soon as they left the island they could no longer retain their youth. However just because Peter Pan never aged doesn't mean he didn't feel the weight of years he spent enjoying them. He certainly had his days.
Sometimes he felt his true age in his body. Some days it felt like his bones ached from years of suppressed growing. Other days, wounds that had healed quickly the way only a child's could, twinged like those of a veteran's. His joints screamed when they were used to the point that he couldn't breathe. There were also times he felt he that he couldn't move, only realizing that he was able to, but not until one of the boys unintentionally cracked his back. Then, he couldn't reach as far as he could, bend as much as he should be able to, or even be active for as long as he normally was. He quickly became hunched and slowed during that time. Those were the days he solely flew. He couldn't run, jump, or climb like the other boys. He even went to sleep before the others on those days.
Other times his age was all in his head. Once in a while he was moody to the point of scaring away most who knew him. His emotions changed at the flip of a coin the way only a teenager's could. Every so often, his usual playful tactics bored him. What, only the day before, he found exciting and intrigue easily became ridiculous and immature in his mind disconnected with his body. Those were the days he learned as he was left alone and was unable to play. With that time he read all the lost books that washed upon the shores. He flew around the shore, collecting any book that caught his interest. Eventually over the years, he read enough to reach a high school reading level and had enough books to build a castle of knowledge.
Most uncommon though were the days he tinkered. Those days sometimes landed amongst Tinkerbelle's most favorite. The days Peter felt he must do something productive, for he couldn't sit still, nor waste the time. The carved wooden crocodile that once sat at Peter's bedside was one of the many outcomes of Peter's tinker days. The Lost Boys always enjoyed Peter's and Tink's creations, but they could never stand to watch them being created. Instead they preferred to circle the island as they did on the days Peter was gone. He didn't mind their absence, absorbed as he was honing whatever thought came to his perfect child's mind and making it real. He might even be at his happiest when he could show someone what he had brought to life from something that had at one time been nothing more than a small, bright spark.
Peter was never worried by these days, and the Lost Boys hid their fear well. Each time they experienced one of those days their fear grew an infinitesimal amount. Even so their fear accumulated enough for them to always wonder, would this be the last of eternal youth?
Such are the woes
of the person who never grows,
may they never plague your mind
as you will surely find,
there is never a greater friend
than time
I edited this story, and I changed the ending. It was 'oh the woes of a youth older than he should ever be', but I didn't like it. It didn't...fit. I didn't mean to write a poem, just have the first two lines, but then I was like 'hey that rhymes' and decided to make it a warning. That ended up rhyming to and I wanted a pause in the reading before the last two words, and so you get the format. Anyways, I hoped you liked the story, and the poem ending, if not I can change it back, but I can't know unless you review!