Once I Was a Giant

She asks: “Am I getting taller?”Giant

She is my daughter.

A woman. Full grown.

She is not getting taller.

 

I look down at her

As we hug goodbye.

Not so far down now.

Closer eye to eye than we once were.

 

“No,” I say. “I am getting smaller.”

She has noticed that

I am not what I once was.

The years have whittled me down by inches.

 

Once I was a giant.

Or so I imagined.

But she has found me out.

Seen it with her own eyes.

I am a man.

Merely.

Diminished.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.