Those Summer Days

Those summer days,
when my sister and I 
played tag outside. 
Those summer days,
when we sat in the grass,
watching the trees.
Watching them sway,
watching them dance,
to the wind.
As if they were putting on a play,
a performance,
just for us,
only for us.
Those summer days,
when the tall,
strong but still elegant
pine
in our backyard,
would stand,
beaming as my sister 
crawled her way to the top, 
looking down at me,
wishing that I had the guts
to do the same.
Those summer days,
when this tree would watch over,
when it would protect,
our lost animals. 
This tree, 
it did us wonders,
and it still does.
It still dances,
it still breathes,
it still lives,
it still loves.
It still gives us splinters,
cuts, 
bruises, 
but isn't it worth it?
Isn't it worth it to take a little pain,
if you can have something so grand,
so wondrous,
to hold you when your sad,
to swing you when you're feeling energetic,
playful,
happy? 
Those summer days,
when trees made life perfect.
Ah, those summer days.