She saw it in the glass in the woman's hand, her
Miniature, her golden hair she tossed, her small
Movement down the stair.  She saw her own 
Lips move but didn't know what she said.  
And the man with her took her hand before
They both walked down the path.  It was a 
Sunny day and the steps were red with lead
Freshly done.  She looked up, met the old woman's
Green eyes, said nothing, looked down at the
Scene repeating over and over again like a 
Tape being rewound.  It was herself, no doubt.
But she didn't recognise the event because it
Hadn't happened yet.  She saw the sadness
On her tiny face, knew that a momentous thing
Would strike her then, swore she would
Recognise the moment and go back in, back in
Through the door she left, retrace her steps 
And wish him all love, all happiness, give him 
All her love, all her thanks, before the
Moment passed that made it all too late.
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