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I’d love to spend a day, just one,
There with the Hardy Boys;
I grew up loving all their books,
Their acumen and poise

They started in the 1920’s –
Kids books were the rage:
But after near a century
They still are the same age.

So if I went to join them, I
Would ask how this could be;
That they would be in high school
Longer than my cousin Dee

Who stayed so long in tenth grade
He was old enough to vote.
But still, with those two boys
We’d grab some mystery by the throat

And squeeze it ’til we solved it.
We’d encounter villains’ anger:
But we would work right through it, from
Cliffhanger to cliffhanger.

I’m sure I couldn’t hang with them;
I really have no clue —
But living in their world is something
I long wished to do

And since nobody ages there,
It does seem quite the place:
The Mystery of the Aging Gene
That vanished
Without trace

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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Storybook Day.”