MOTHER still round, in love with child anew

Easy to overlook the subtle hints

Of the fracture within, trained eye sees clue

Eighty-two shines your number, bluish tint.

Tearful farewell, fated day has arrived.

Pained mother's face as we pass through the door

Invisible cord stretch, tense and alive

Umbilical phantom limb evermore.

With tubes, scalpel, we enter sacred space.

The threshold crossed, commitment becomes real

To hold numbers, sounds, instead of your face.

The care within transmutes into sharp steel

Foreshortened, stolen, your time may well be

Yet you touch the hearts of all who touch thee.