Nice guy, was what most people said,
A nice man, over all,
But he appeared to me to be
A nice man - ten feet tall.
Oh, sure, he teased me as a kid,
He thought I was a pest,
Well, little sisters are that way,
But, he loved me none the less.
Oh, I s'pose I was a nuisance,
And sometimes was in the way,
But I was four years younger,
And I just wanted him to play.
And also, I was just a girl,
That made a difference, too,
How could I possibly understand,
The things that boys do.
But then one day, we both grew up,
And we eased teasing one another,
And about that time, we recognized
We really loved each other.
I told him that a lot,
Mostly on the phone,
Because by then we lived apart,
And had our separate homes.
And when I'd say, "I love you,"
I'd hear him stammer like a kid,
"Me too," he'd bashfully reply,
Though I knew he really did.
 And then, as we grew older still,
We talked a lot, without an end,
As man and woman - as adults,
And, better yet - as friends.
I know he cared about me,
He showed it in a thousand ways,
And we became each other's comfort,
As we both began to age.
Now he's gone, and I will miss him,
 And I will miss his "me, too" calls,
Did I tell you?  Did you hear me?
My big brother was ten feet tall.
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright January 2003
For Beverly Padgett and her ten foot tall brother, Ted

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Ginny's Heart Index