Whatever you call them
breasts or twins
they precede us
and divert looks
or maybe attract none.
All life suckles there
heads lay there
babies drink.
I remember at 13,
their nuturance
and that single wish
they'd grow.
Push-ups I admit,
I tried to hurry along the process,
but such mixed feelings there.
Mine grew
My sisters didn't.
They got the attention
I didn't;
my sister got interest
in her
and not them.
They hang
a little more now
than I like;
sister and I
hug
and they
bow-
between us.
she has one less
cancer-stricken;
and I have the love
she needs;
sister bonds;
us;
one is not missed.
Bravo, a bold and sincere expression of how you feel and wonderfully penned. In all situations they are the blessed two, For milk of symparhy to them all glue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Brava! Should be read by all women. A healthy outlook.