Death of a Romantic Lady

She has dedicated her life 
to love and romance
affection always craved
and never withheld.
Living in a dreamlike 
state of untruths
that to her were 
as honest as the day.

In dreams she lies in green meadows
the wind curving the golden barley.
Her heart is as permanent
as the stones
her love unlimited and given freely.

After many years
she had none left to give.
But still she gave of herself to them.
When she died she lay rested
Below the swaying branches
of the weeping willow.
And all the flowers in the meadows.
Turned to face her grave
To bask in her sweet warmth
even in death.