I. discolored snapshots breathe life into memories with blurred edges unabated joy in thoughts of, "forever will feel like this" Silver Bells tasted like pine boughs and cinnamon
she built home out of air filling lungs with life that made love into the root of all things beautiful ragtag Charlie Brown trees, the most beautiful of all
II. Fall fell hard and the trees died too lights and empty gestures, for the sake of children eyes clenched in prayers that, "forever won't feel like this" breathing in the smog of auld lang syne
can't save what couldn't be saved sometimes things end without ending love in seedlings or old oaks still scorch a heart Silver Bells in saline reminders of nothing feels familiar
III. stomped into submission beneath icy indifference short breaths feel alive in crystal shards that penetrate lungs when they try to break free from truth normal in stifled emotions where a toothy grin pretends it's elation
Silver Bells smile without a voice to jingle in and snapshots prove happiness is possible...or was--once believing that angels walk with us teaching us how to make love into the root of all things beautiful
maybe, "forever, we can try to build home out of air"
auld lang syne - /ôld laNG ˈzīn,ˈsīn noun - times long past