Aging is Like a Tree

Aging is like a tree,

And when you are young, you are green

Smooth and fresh and full of gleam

And also fragile: prone to breaking with ease

And if that is not the decree

Growing inclined, you will foresee

But as the tree grows,

It roughens, it scars, it holds

Wrinkles and cracks and loads

Of character and dignity that flows

And as more ample I become,

More wisdom comes from

The heights that are yet to come

When with self-assuredness I implore

That I do not need forgiveness for being or existing

I say to the world, “I’m here to stay, stop resisting.”

And as I obtain more leaves and knowledge enlisting

For the trees of my veins and my blood to assist in

Their fertilizer, to be self-subsisting

As I acquire a year, two years, and yet another year,

The more I anchor roots, the more on the earth I adhere,

The more the world gets transformed, it becomes clear,

That I shouldn’t be ashamed of the history I hold so dear?

Why would I bury everything that I engineered?

Therefore, when I am even older

And I become even bolder,

I will shout with pride and honour,

“I am the years that I have, since I am a holder

Of those precious years, I don’t grow any younger

And when my youth’s value decays, my years become golder