Life without sisters,
Is filled with internal blisters,

They are like grandmothers (at will) when we"re puerile,
And like stringent mothers when we"re hostile,

They are also the ones to calm our soul,
Especially when things seem to take a toll!!

Every year (In India),we tie a knot of protection and love,
To re-impose the fact that a sister is not really a pigeon,but a dove.

We are proud of ourselves,but soon we realize,
that in their own way,they too protect and are equally wise.

So high is the profundity of the love brother with the sister shares,
That no one can be an obstacle;that is if he dares!

I have one such elder sister who is in fact younger by age,
Yes,the the above line makes me proud and does not fill me with rage.

When I'm burning with rage due to my harrow-some brother,she is a water hose,
a small and sturdy pillar to grasp when happy or morose.

Cute,Happy-go-lucky,receptive and mature,
Street smart,athletic but most importantly pure.

And at the tender age of 9,is way ahead of time,
By the way,take my gurantee,she is way better than this poem and all it's lines.