This will sound crazy, you may think me insane,
But I am dead certain of a tumor in my brain.
And not any old tumor, oh no, contraire.
But a tumor of love that grows with my hair.
Down past my shoulders until it tickles my heart,
Soft feathers brushing cause tingling sparks.
Goosebumps down to every nerve end.
This will sound crazy but my tumor is my friend.
© Christopher Allen Breidinger
Excerpt from the book “Poet Christopher’s
Scenes, Dreams, and Golden Schemes”
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