Kidnapped Children And Your Love For Me Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The bad cliffs where they keep their arrowheads
Where nothing is sacred anymore—
Where the stream comes up from where the
Dragon grins from his footprints,
Where it doesn't rain anymore,
But the everlasting boys come in and pretend
To be Peter Pan or
They play baseball—
In the boreal theatres where the moonlight is
Lost without a lover,
And the passengers look out from
The unending trains—
Where is it that they are going—
Why is it that no one can see their destination—
But the jungle is voluptuous,
Hiding all of the secrets of the fairy tales as
It happens on and on without ending—
And it seems as if everything can grow there—
In an orgy of confused feelings
Where kidnapped children and your love
For me once existed.