Ode To My Bra

It came unexpectedly
although I should have known it couldn’t last forever.
I have only myself to blame.
After all I had worn it everyday
for the last 5 years.
It had a wisp of green paint smears
all over it from the time I painted the kitchen walls.
It no longer held my girls up
in their attention saluting position
but at least
it kept them from hitting my knees.
Some people feel best in well-worn shoes.
Me? I prefer well worn, stretched out elastic bras.
Some bra deaths are silent
Mine wasn’t.
It was abrupt
and harsh
and happened in the frozen food isle of the grocery store.
It was there the under wire finally snapped
piercing my right breast.