There was a cherry tree in our backyard,
planted the very same day I was born.
It was beautiful; Yet whenever my parents glanced at it,
their gazes were distant, forlorn.

It stood outside my bedroom window,
I'd seen it grow along with me -
My chubby fingers had onced poked its tender stem;
Now calloused fingers caress that faithful, well-worn tree.

Gathering baskets of ripe cherries from its well laden boughs,
I'd once asked my parents why they would stare at it such.
And they'd told me that it was planted in memory of my sister;
My twin - lost before but loved just as much.

As the years passed by, that tree became
my best friend, the sister I'd always wanted.
My favourite memories being those leaning against it in its shade,
narrating sorrows and joys, leaving nothing unsaid.

When I was fifteen, my parents told me they were separating.
I remember sobbing for hours beside that tree, where I knelt,
pounding my fists on its weathered trunk;
For only a sibling could understand the fury, the denial, the pain I felt.

Years later its romantic, tinged blossoms made up my bouquet,
and as I gazed ahead at my beloved standing proudly beneath my tree,
the hem of my white gown trailing along my pink petalled path;
I knew my sister was precisely where I wanted her to be.

We named our baby girl Cherry. And as soon as she was old enough
to toddle around, I took her outside to show
her namesake in our backyard. She fell in love with nestling in its safe boughs
almost immediately; And my heart ached with longings -
Of the pictureless aunt she'd never know.

Years rolling by, I soon found myself a granny to three;
As I spent my days knitting in my rocking chair beneath that seasoned tree.
And at last when the time to reunite with my dearest sister finally came,
my final wish was to be laid to rest under the very same.