Like a puzzle, you now feel incomplete,

Afraid to let me see the angry scar

Where it was sliced away like so much meat;

You wonder what is left, and what you are.

Asymmetry that makes a restless night;

Your worries that I’ll never hold you close.

But you’re my source, my beacon of delight;

You’re, in my eyes, a pruned but perfect rose.

Reminding us of our mortality,

Events like this can forge a stronger bond.

A love unfazed by stark reality,

That rides the rapids for a quiet pond.

The bottom line is, it was just a breast;

The best news is, we get to keep the rest.


[dedicated to my wife - please also read the related poem, "Pink Ribbon".]

03/29/2002

Author's Note: First published in The Barefoot Muse, Summer 2006.

Posted on 03/29/2002
Copyright © 2025 Bruce W Niedt