snow on the wind

...Quiet snow dreams past, and leaves, alive in the wind.
She lies so still in front of me, eyes closed, at peace. A perfect image of serenity, my gift from heaven. The white sheets and pale winter light give her such an angelic quality, something she hasn't lost. Something she hasn't lost.
Quiet white sky.
They said, she can hear you. She can see you. But she isn't really there.
My daughter.
How many days at her bedside? Two years now? Already.
My little girl, you see.
Only sixteen. Her birthday, last month, but she didn't understand the candles. I lit them for her, but she didn't understand. The tiny points of light reflected in her eyes.
My gift from heaven.
Sometimes, I see, she looks at me, and nothing has ever changed. There she is, waiting to smile. And they wanted to let you go? No, no.
Not my daughter, they couldn't understand. I can look after her. I'm her mother and I can look after her, nothing else matters. I can be the good mother now.
I can care for her.
They said they said, physically, she has completely healed. But she's gone, you have to let her go. You have to try to understand.
But shes only sixteen. Her whole life in front of her.
No-one can take that away.
There isn't a mark on her, no cuts no bruises. She just needs a little time.
Rest.
And I can look after her.
So many memories, of her playing on the grass, in the snow. So alive. She's still in there, inside. She wouldn't leave me. Hasn't left me.
Life.
We moved away from the city after it happened, because she didn't like the noise of the cars. She hasn't spoken, not for a long time. Her voice.
I miss her voice. Always makes me cry, that I can't remember, remember her last words to me. Doesn't seem, like so long ago.
At peace, her eyes closed, and nothing has happened. No hospitals, no tears.
It could be any morning.
Her lips get dry, so I put on a little balm, and brush her hair, wash and dress her. We don't go out though. Never really go out.
They said, it wouldn't be possible to teach her to walk again. And what would be the point?
Alone together, I can care for her.
Sitting here, I've missed the seasons she loved, watching her sleep. The seasons she might never feel again.
My daughter.
You get bitter. You get lonely, for the first time you really know what loneliness is, and images stand out.
The grass in summer.
The red and gold autumn.
Dies.
I never forgot her, I just needed something to believe in, and this is what happened while I was praying.
And all she ever has now are the long nights. Winter without spring.
Charmed pity and colours at dawn.
Images stand out.
Sunset.
A glow inside and wishing you were far away.
Squeezing her cold fingers.
My gift from heaven, and I care for her.
A bitter and lonely sunrise.
Her eyes are open again, she sees me.
Moonlit.
Her eyes are open now.
In the quiet white sky.
My daughter.
I know she sees me.
She does.
Quiet snow, dreaming past.
Leaves in the wind...