A Strong Drink

As a youth, I was root beer, scummy brown,

In a sea of shandies, all watered down.

And she was pink lemonade.

Didn’t taste quite right, so I tried to blend in,

Drank with the rest, preferred percentages less thin,

I changed, but she remained the same.

Swapped my brown from tinned to bottled,

Felt mature, thick-skinned, and hair mottled.

And she was pink lemonade.

My sweet parts melted into dismay,

Quirks and uniqueness’ faded away,

I changed, but she remained the same.

I became a British shade of dandelion and burdock.

Spat with the lads, till mottled became dreadlock.

And she was pink lemonade.

I grew bitter, and thought her life peachy, and breezy,

Mistook her pink life to be simple and easy,

I changed, but she remained the same.

I flailed and slunk, and drunk as I drowned,

In the world, as they pushed us, she stood her ground.

I changed, but she remained the same.

And she was pink lemonade.