If you know the snow seed, plant the fence around the spare note, the pick up note, left behind that grows into a farmhouse in the middle of the white space, five lines grouped on the sheet of paper. She holds a girl, six, in the single bed her mother bought after she moved out, when she lived in the basement room of an unknown house because she needed to be loved gentle and right. Her granddaughter falls asleep, and her daughter plants the kiss on the nose that's still growing.
This is not meant to romanticize a life lived for real. But it is the same kind of thing you find in a shoebox made into a Valentine mailbox. If you will but slip the note into the box and let it read: I have been looking for you because I saw you forever.
It's easy when you move into it and speak from within it rather than about it.