Ode to Peter

Peter, O his name was Peter.
That name I remember, he was in my labyrinth.
He was Peter, and he were my only bread crumbs.
I am a lost child. lost wonder, I tread the autumn grassy field alone,
with naked-feet, I am alone and always a wonder----Wonder aus der Wunderkinder.
O he was my only bread-crumbs with which I,
mark my path and then eat all the remaining visages in bewilderment.
Peter, O. Peter. 
Peter…O Pan.
Peter-Pan.
surely you remember, I am the one who ate your body,
and called it bread-crumbs. 
by bank of the eternal river of shades that flows…
the eternal child fell dead from imperishable flight,
the tall yellow-sere grass of autumn hid your form,
and your flesh was eaten by worms.
the blood flew to the river.