Did I really sing through the early spring and coo and bill with the daffodils, howl like a wolf at the moon, watch the rising of the tide, was that really me inside looking out?

And lay bare when the Sun became the name that I called you by, did the stars ever twinkle so sweetly in the sky at night?
How dim now the light seems in those memories if the might have beens had been definite.

Winter spills more than rain on me and these weary eyes can see the end.

Christmas lends to me one more holiday with the family and the ones I love and then it takes back what belongs to it with interest due.

If I knew at all anything at all I know ****** all about it at all.

And the spring will come, the daffodils, the Sun and I'll have gone.
Fair or
unfair it's all
that
and
Lemons.