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 gla**, 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 gla** 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 gla**. You can't go back and take a different turn. But I know she'll last the concrete and gla**.