| I found this photograph,
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| Underneath the broken picture glass
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| Tender face of black and white,
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| Beautiful, a haunting sight
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| Looked into an angel’s smile,
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| Captivated all the while
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| From the hair and clothes she wore,
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| I’d place her in between the wars
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| Was she willing when she sat
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| And posed the pretty photograph?
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| Save her flowering and fair,
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| The days to come, the days to share
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| A big smile for the camera,
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| How did she know?
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| The moment could be lost forever
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| Forever more
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| I found this photograph,
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| Stashed between the old joist walls,
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| In a place where time is lost,
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| Lost behind, where all things fall
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| Broken books and calendars,
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| Letters script in careful hand,
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| Music too, a standard tune by Some forgotten big brass band
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| From the threshhold what’s to see
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| Of our brave new century?
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| The television’s just a dream,
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| The radio, the silver screen
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| A big smile for the camera,
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| How did she know?
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| The moment could be lost forever
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| Forever more
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| Was her childhood filled with rhymes,
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| Stolen hooks, impassioned crimes?
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| Was she innocent or blind
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| To the cruelty of her time?
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| Was she fearful in her day,
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| Was she hopeful, did she pray?
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| Were there skeletons inside,
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| Family secrets, sworn to hide?
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| Did she feel the beat that stirs,
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| The fall from grace of wayward girls?
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| Was she tempted to pretend,
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| The love and laughter, 'til the end? |