How late in life,
Did she begin, to paint?
I see them now,
She is gone.
Never an artist,
Yet a painter.
As never a poet,
Yet a writer, am I.
Did they bring her joy?
I have them now,
She is gone.
Will my children have my poems,
When gone I am?
To bring to bring them, joy?
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I love to collect thoughts. I would love to collect some of yours, if they are mindful and respectable.