To Cancer
Your presence is unbidden,
silent as a sleeping cat,
you're cancer.
Clothed in robes of despondency,
of deep tolling knells.
Yet, there's flowering hope
of exultation,
rising into another star-blessed
dawn.
You cannot, you will not dampen dreams,
they are always created,
nurtured from their infancy,
delivered into limitless life,
so treasured from a child's free mind,
as vast, as pristine as the universe.
Then, like pure doves they leave the
bonds of this mortality,
far from you cancer,
and your selfish grasp. ~
Copyright © Regina Elliott | Year Posted 2025
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