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.


This poem is about: 
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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