Oh To Have A Tara Of My Own Poem by Patti Masterman

Oh to have a Tara, all my own-
And a secret beau, complex and dark
To reap all the dangers I've sown:
With my own tongue, wreck my own heart.

Oh to be beautiful, and drowning in pedigree-
To have no scruples, yet never lacking bravery
Collect the dotings love, almost for free:
Be bewitching and tempestuous, quite savory.

The fiction mirrors the vanity, so real-
How we value the false, and crave the brief
So willing are we, to beg, borrow and steal:
Alas, love has flown, before we notice the thief.

If we finally peer in the mirror, one day, then-
On the curved wood dresser, at those green eyes;
That men would sell their soul, at just one chance to sin:
We'd realize in the end, the price was much too high.