Angel in the snow,

sometime after midnight.

15 below in Barcelona.

My full moon shed a frozen tear.

Angel in the snow,

what do you want to do?

You can fall in and out of love,

how can I face not knowing?

Angel in the snow,

our conversations were simply metaphors

for hearts lost a millennium ago in a faraway city

where too much distraction destroyed our course

through ages of quiet moons,

through ages of starless nights

in the darkness of our souls.