When I was young I used to look up to
many things; clouds, the stars, and up at you.
You towered over me when I was small,
but now we’re even. After all I
am twelve, and you are fifty. I am young;
you seem so wise, so strong, impassable.
But even the strong break themselves.
Now I am seventeen, and you are not
so strong, so wise but weak, and you are gone!
I am now strong, more wise, and memories
of towering figures do not scare me.
Now that I am older I look up to
the clouds, the stars, and, sadly, not to you.
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