My childhood waned, its memory
a brow to fall, then rise with glee
As present circumstance oft gave
me chance to cherish what God saved
My chemotherapy grew old
but young at heart, its thoughts foretold
My eyes could see, its visions graced
with images that often raced
But come what may, my hopes would rise
as thoughts would dance before these eyes
A single recollection best
to nourish most but leave the rest
To God alone, His home beyond
a single tear that formed what pond.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem