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December cold as risen again;
drifting flurries tend to land on my window.
The lights have begun to bring the sky,
to the glow once known as Christmas.
magic fell from the sky.
I used to ask my mother,
“why do the snow angels cry?”
brought upon by God, our savior.
They soar through the golden lights,
flashing amongst the dead of night.
They feel the happiness of those fortunate,
the pain of those who’s care is gone.
It’s a shame that they are found to have none!
But still, the angels feel their pain;
only knowing once they rise again that
joy can bring the one true hope to those
who’s care is gone.
It is only pure white snow that falls,
from the angels up above.
Even if a sorrowful snow,
it is a magic to behold.
Look at the glow, from the midnight sky!
I’ve never stayed up so late into the night.
It’s only to watch the snow;
only to watch the tears of
pain,; of heartbreak…
It is the tale of those foolish enough to believe.
I am just as foolish.
But as time faded away, the snow angels disappeared.
Belief was the defeat; pain was brought with too much greed.
“but sometimes,” mother told me once,
“sometimes… People do believe.”
And if you really do believe,
during the night of Christmas Eve,
look out upon the sky,
past your window, past the lights!
Past the darkest, deadliest night!
Look out to the snow angels from up above,
and maybe you could see them cry.