Maturation

I was helpless, I was shining. You were knowing. and bestowing. When my steps were unsteady, you held my hand. You were ready. Age is just a number, you said grinning broadly like a little girl repeating a loving fib. You wanted a protector, a guardian of devotion. But I am not your Paul Bunyan, the mighty timberman in your dreams. In my twilight, I remember so many mighty forests burning to cinder. Frailty disintegrates the will. Big-strong-protecting-men wilt with age. They offer their pleading eyes, longing to be cradled. Maturity is mortality ticking. I was helpless, I was shining. You were knowing, and bestowing. When my steps were unsteady, you held my hand.