in an abandoned palace a lady walks watching, waiting her love will not come again in golden days of youth long ago two figures used to dance in the warm days of summer spinning, twirling those times she visits now so far away from this winter cold, grey in the dusty rooms of a fairy castle she wanders aimlessly turning, turning looking for her love so calm his voice comforting, soothing she hears it now she lays her down despairing, weeping and prepares herself to die once again her love takes her warm, loving the last thing she sees is his face her love has come again.