Little Tammy Warner

Little Tammy Warner loved to dream,

The only thing made real by her own hand,

and from the best adventures she would glean,

the sights and sounds to make her Neverland.

An apple in a tree from which some swipe,

The world around she never understood,

When mean and unknown hands picked her unripe,

She closed her eyes and claimed her childhood.

The day when little Tammy Warner died

in sleep, The files claim the cause unknown,

Then black clad figures wept and wailed and cried,

Remembering the girl so daydream prone.

So, goes the dream with Tammy, it does seem,

seems better saying Tammy to her dream.