A violists refreshment

I play the viola. it's not a violin. it's a viola. please dont get them confused. I walk on stage to perform with my family. bases and cellos and violins and, of course, the violas. the lights rain down on us. they're warm yet I a wave of fear washes over us. it's not pleasant but I'm ready. my family and I share a deep and happy trust. and with the rainwater. all that's left is to grow our lemons. not too sour and not too sweet, our lemons are for everyone to enjoy. we plant the seeds and keep time until they sprout. What's more, we crescendo until the sprout turns to a tree. the glass fills with rainwater, now enter lemons. we finish up with the trees, let's take the fruit. with a swift squeeze, the lemonade is ready. ready for all to enjoy. it's sweet and savory with it's beautiful flaws. And as everyone sips on our creation, eventually there is no more. the rain ceases as we're ushered off stage. a wonderful balet of flavor and sound that I've made with my orchestral family. now I go home and to rest, a refreshed violist.