Its cold, extremely cold. The snow falls down like white rain blanketing the city. The park is looks different as if someone had washed away all the colour. Not in a bad way; but in a good way. It feels as if someone had given the city a fresh start; had washed away all its sins. I was sitting on a park bench when I noticed a small flame. It was a candle inside a wooden box. It was beautiful; as if someone wanted to hold unto their feelings. As if they would rather be dirty and feel than clean and emotionless. I may have read too much into it but it was beautiful nevertheless; the candle in the snow.
Candle In The Snow by A Man Named Dan