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Taller
The nights are getting warmer now
And daylight coaxes out the blonde
Even though my hair is darker than it was
When I was last here
The very same floorboards creaking under my step
Though I tread delicately
In the dead of night
Years ago I snuck out the porch door
And laid with my back to the deck
My arms outstretched
And my eyes far away
Seeing things that haven’t been seen
Galaxies and nebulas, inventions and toys
Birds with gossamer wings
Astronauts with invisible spaceships
Men so tall they could stir the clouds
With the motion of their little finger
And up,up,up I’d stretch
Until I could trap the stars like fireflies in a jar
Before sinking back to the ground
And returning to my slumber
The nights are getting shorter now
The days parched and flattened
And I am taller than I was
When I was last here
I remember sunlight flicking through the leaves
Onto the rusty bed of my red wagon
Trailing behind me as I run
I was never quite so fast as I wanted to go
But fast enough that dirt spewed up behind me
And the dust wouldn’t settle for minutes after I took off
Running because the world was chasing after me
Running, running, running
Scenery blurring and for a moment it felt
Like I was flying upwards
Through the thicket of branches into the sky
And up, up, up I’d fly
Past the sun,
And between the stars,
Like I was never coming down
Like I could go and go and go and go and go
forever if I really wanted to
The nights are getting longer now
And the days are crisp and bright
And I am older than I was
When I could run and play the days away
Nearly used to feeling grown-up
With my widened shoulders and sharper gaze
Tall enough to reach the cookie jar
But too forgetful to remember why I wanted it in the first place
I still look up at the stars
But they aren’t so bright
And it’s hard for a little red wagon
to catch my eye anymore
I used to run away from the world
But it caught up to me so quietly
And so gently
It hadn’t occurred to me to fight it off
I am faster than I was when I last returned
But there is nothing to run from
And nothing to look towards
Except for the glint of the summer sun through the leaves
And the path extending on into the distance
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Growing up is the first form of loss many people experience.