|
I know her now, through the words in the poems |
|
that come with her name, through the drawings |
|
the sentences have made. I know her twenty years |
|
will last a lot longer. |
|
Maybe she'll catch me if I let her. An end to this |
|
fall. |
|
I know her now. I know she will last the concrete |
|
and glass, the ceiling that held her that high, the |
|
road and the bridge that took here there. I didn't |
|
catch her fall and I didn't leave us as leaving |
|
should be. Watching concrete floors through glass |
|
ceilings can take the better of the days that we are |
|
leaving. |
|
Maybe she'll catch me if I let her. An end to this |
|
fall. Maybe she'll catch me if I let her. Awaken |
|
the scientists, the soldiers we were. |
|
All the calls, the dances and songs, the moments |
|
that were. They will never leave. All her words, |
|
her ideas and her thoughts will all stay as such |
|
things must. |
|
You can't go back and take a different turn. |
|
But I know she'll last the concrete and glass. |
|
You can't go back and take a different turn. |
|
But I know she'll last the concrete and glass. |
