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