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.