When I moved here, you were very small.
Not able to reach the open lock on the gate.
Now, you tower over me, leaving me in your shade.
A hidden, incurable disease has suddenly turned your height into a danger.
It has been left to me to bring you down to size, to prevent your sickness spreading.
Then, piece by piece, I’ll carry you out through that unlocked gate.
Sadly, I pick up the saw.
Originally published: Paragraph Planet
