The Tree That Never Outgrew Love

A cloud for every time I reminisce, plenty enough to stir a storm; Yet never enough to uproot the pink-apple tree That stood tall in my neighbour's backyard . A shadow of one- you, me and the pink fruit tree, we spilt all our secrets under: soaked the bark, as we feasted on them blissfully the once sweet sourness, now sour memories. I visited home after a year, (Or probably a decade?) No football ground, no creaky swing sets As moss infested houses sat upon them, smirking. With change spat everywhere, Relieved I was to see; Master of its own- The pink fruit tree! A gust of memories sprang upon me As I I heard the pink fruit tree recite To the shrubs, guava trees, some birds after flight; The song of two best friends Who taught it the art of sharing Whose laughter opened its tendrils Whose love was constant as Sirius himself, And how its privileged twigs traced muddy blueprints Of building houses next to each other, With no hiccups for life to wade through. Motionless, I left quietly Wearing a smile bittersweet. For if not you or me, At least the pink fruit tree Keeps watering the wilted golden memories.