Under Grumpa's Hat

There’s a curious chill when you start to rise,
A quiet shift in the way they speak your name,
Smiles that once felt warm now carry disguise,
As if your progress has lit a private flame.

They’ll say it’s concern, dressed up nice and neat,
A gentle warning so you don’t go too far,
But underneath it, there’s a subtle retreat,
A hope you forget just how capable you are.

Some measure their worth by the room they command,
And you growing taller messes up their view,
It’s hard to applaud when you barely can stand,
So they’d rather see you stay smaller too.

Others are haunted by roads left untaken,
Your courage reminds them of chances they missed,
It’s easier to call your ambition mistaken,
Than admit there was something they once dismissed.

And then there are those who simply compete,
Turning your wins into their private loss,
They’ll smile to your face but sharpen deceit,
Keeping a quiet and careful score to emboss.

So walk your path without seeking their cheer,
Not every silence is yours to defend,
Some battles are born from another’s fear,
And have nothing to do with the road that you mend.