Death of the Lemon

The reflections of a woman.

As I sit gazing out the window,

I see my life go fluttering  by,

Waiting for me in the meadow,

When the willow breathes a sigh,

I will run with the young ,

And laugh with the soft summer breeze,

Where the spirit is high and all songs are sung,

Shall I sit here and wait for the winter freeze.