Photo by Mary Bach
Cold are the people,
Winter of life,
We tremble in shadows this cold endless night,
Frozen in the snow lie roses sleeping,
Flowers that will echo the sunrise,
Fire of hope is our only warmth,
Weary, its flame will be dying soon.
-by Daniel Kantor
In Other Words 
I can just imagine, a cold winter night would seem endless- if there is nothing to warm it.
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