Snow and Lights

I miss walking down my street, bundled up in my peacoat with my frayed scarf and polkadot earmuffs. I miss the way the falling white flakes padded the concrete, buffering every sound except its own. I miss the black sky in contrast with streetlights. I miss how the little white crystals would compress under my worn-out shoes, my tracks only to be enveloped again in my absence. My youth is a footprint covered; naivety and innocence are nothing more than a distant memory.