I’m looking for an angel in the snow,
the kind you leave behind
when you fall backward
and believe the ground will remember you.
I keep thinking I’ll find
the outline where you were,
wings pressed into the light.
But snow doesn’t stop for a memory.
It keeps falling,
leaving no trace.
So I look up,
lie down,
arms spread,
and let the snow decide
how long I’ll stay.
Jan 28
Jan 28, 2026 at 1:26 PM UTC
I’m looking for an angel in the snow,
the kind you leave behind
when you fall backward
and believe the ground will remember you.
I keep thinking I’ll find
the outline where you were,
wings pressed into the light.
But snow doesn’t stop for a memory.
It keeps falling,
leaving no trace.
So I look up,
lie down,
arms spread,
and let the snow decide
how long I’ll stay.
