You nurtured,

    gave pleasure.

    Changed,

    harbored

    a secret weapon.

    Disarmed in time,

    I look at you now,

    tell-tale scar

    frowns.

    I pat you down,

    not gently,

    lump rising only

    in my throat,

    this time.

      Cristina Umpfenbach-Smyth,  2011