Wife hasn't got breast cancer,
It was just a lump. Told her
Before hand it doesn't matter to me
It's just a piece of skin
I will always love her
No matter what
Then I wrote this


In our kitchen,
There are two cups.
His and hers,
Filled with love.

One for her,
One for me.
One with tea,
One with coffee.

On her breast.
Where I like to rest,
She has to cups.

Kids grown up.
Both for me,

Poetry by Alan J Ripley The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 24 times
Written on 2023-01-17 at 01:35

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urban duck The PoetBay support member heart!
very good! love becomes unique with time