Answer:
Whiling away the hours of flowers, Walking through fields of gold. Preening and pruning in lights fading hours, For petals to freeze in the cold. What is it?
Halo of water, tongue of wood. Skin of stone, long I've stood. My fingers short reach to the sky. Inside my heart men live and die.
As I walked along the path I saw something with four fingers and one thumb, but it was not flesh, fish, bone or fowl.
They're up near the sky, on something very tall. Sometimes they die, only then do they fall.
You use a knife to slice my head. And weep beside me when I am dead.
Lynn likes grapes but not potatoes. She likes squash but not lettuce, and she likes peas but not onions. Following the same rule, will she like pumpkins or apples?