This then Christmas mourn,
then past.
This then many years,
To see the joy
Then to return
This then year's of sorrow,
Then be gone.
The cancer took its toll.
Never I thought the joy,
Could, return.
Now the cure, then to, the joy.
The sorrow, now, no more.
This then saught, but not believed.
Then to us now, be grateful for,
Here, then still ...
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I love to collect thoughts. I would love to collect some of yours, if they are mindful and respectable.