Taya

She has such a giving way, she brings me Bollinger, on Christmas Day, what we can't do alone, is seek repentance, in circumstances not our own, wine pours down my face, it's like a Christening, she lights the fruit cake, am I here or gone, she hasn't a cent, but laughs at the unknown, who lives with good taste, celebrates a life of richness, calls upon me to pray, her slumber's a loving one, like s rhythm gently spent, lives we look in upon, my greatest days, awash on her innocence, they are like waves, to a beautiful spirit.