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.
There are rules in every relationship that never get spoken out loud, yet somehow both…
For nearly fifty years, Albert Gagnon built furniture that carried a quiet reputation for being…
The clock on the stove blinked 12:37. The young man sat alone at the kitchen…
Every spring, something strange happens to otherwise reasonable adults. The snow disappears, the temperature climbs…
There is something quietly stubborn about a sunrise, like an old farmer who refuses to…
If you ever feel like your toaster is judging you, you are not alone. There…