Well Deserved, Tara

An ipod for Tara is the least they can do but I'm sorry that no one would give me a clue. Did she win it in England or the world as a stage was her poem a lovesong or expression of rage? There are few who send tingles across oceans of foam from their gray and depressing small chambers at home. But this girl is a treasure that has stayed in the shade to watch regiments march until all prayers fade. I do wish I could be that tall angel who would serve and always protect her the best that I could. I would hover and watch there at ten thousand feet and my thoughts would be dreaming that some day we'll meet. Now, I hope you don't get here an impression that's wrong it's poetic in nature, like a nightingale's song. As my mentor old Johann, used to ponti-fi-cate do not keep in your praise, it will soon be too late.