Fading Fairy Dust

Where has the magic gone?
The magic that used to
fill me with butterflies
and tint my world rosy,
the fast-fading fairy dust
that made me feel
so special?

When I was little, I used to ask Santa Claus
every year
for a pair of fairy wings—
Real wings—
and imagined I’d 
Wake up,
Smile,
soar around my room,
and fly to the very top of the 
tallest pine tree in my yard,
and look out at my beautiful world—

I used to wish on stars, and
sing to fireflies, pretending they
danced to my melodies;
I would dance across the grass
in my backyard, singing,
imagining I was Maria in the Sound of Music
Or the ingenue of a Broadway musical—

I would write stories, notes to look back on
when I became famous;
so much hope and joy and innocence and
belief in the world,
belief in myself, for
i did not pretend i was a star,
I was a star.
I thought I could do anything.
But my kryptonite
was growing up, realizing
the world from a young adult’s perspective.
Not even movies are the same, things which
used to transport me to magical lands
far, far away, now interrupted with jokes
children don’t register.
What happened to my magic,
my confidence,
my sweet, gentle dreams,
And how I believed with all my heart
that they would come true?
Sometimes, I don’t even recognize myself anymore.
Please, Fate, give me back
my rose-tinged view of the world,
my inner Disney princess,
my inner star.
Now, those same dreams seem so big,
I fear they’ll crush me—
For reality and what little wisdom I’ve gained
Have replaced that innocent joy
with fearful uncertainty