pink lemonade days

I took a sip of the warm summer sun
As it shone down so sweetly,
Tenderly touching the trunk
Of an old oak tree.

I ran my eager hand
Along its rugged surface,
Ancient and rough,
And I felt so young,
With hands so soft-
So easily bruised and splintered.

I asked the tree,
"Why are you so rough?"
For afternoons are soft with sunshine,
Light and smooth
With delicate daisies peeking through.

And the tree said to me,
"The grass withers
And the flowers fade,
New again each Spring are made.
But here I've stayed
As seasons changed,
Always rooted deep remained.

"I am rough because of all I have seen,
And all I have lost.
I have said goodbye
To many an autumn leaf,
Turned to brown and fallen away.
I have shed my magnificent shades
Time and time again,
And braved wildest winter wind,
With branches weighed down in white.

"Ask me how I became rough,
And I'll tell you it takes time.
It takes bleakest winters
And autumn change,
It takes sun-kissed summers
And rainy-day springs
To make me grow
And give me rings."

I looked at the tree,
So much older than me,
As my freckled fingers danced
Across its jagged wooden shield, so hard,
Yet I sat beneath
Sheltered in softest summer shade.

I suppose I would have liked to stay forever soft
To dwell in endless summer afternoons.
But time did pass,
And my flowers did fade.
Seasons danced
And danced away,
Spiraling into rings as I grew.

But though I'm harder now,
More guarded,
With skin no longer smooth,
Undamaged-
What the tree didn't tell me
Is that I'm so much taller now.
I can see things I could never see before,
During the days of pink lemonade
And shade.

It takes time,
And it takes pain.
It takes loss with gain.
But now I am the tallest of trees.

I may be rough,
But it's because I'm strong.
Softest grass will wither
And flowers fade,
But I will stand forever.