Her Breasts Poem by John F. McCullagh

The young girl disguised her nervousness,
sucking in her breath.
The cool air made the nipples stand
upon her naked breasts.
I rubbed my hands to warm them.
I gently felt the nodes.
Slightly tender but not swollen
were those perfect milky globes.
A subcutaneous cyst was all
her breast exam revealed.
I smiled and told her
she could dress.
I saw she was relieved
Those breasts which lately caused concern
once more a source of pride.
I made notations on her chart.
'Your Mom's waiting outside.'