We can always see life anew
You told me the tale of a lump in your breast
Your words then fell still, and, well, I guessed the rest.
We sat in the breeze of an autumn cafe
And I told you my tale of a similar day.
A lump “down below” like a ball of white snow
The words fell again, for your eyes said “I know”.
The connection is made and we laugh at those days
It’s a fine thing to feel your remembrance ablaze.
Now our lumps lie in jars for the scientists’ eyes.
And each day is now such a fabulous prize.
We drank not green tea, but hot chocolate sweet
And I noticed a dance of the toes of your feet.