My first poem returns

I am a woman in mid life now
Today finding myself pensive and reflective.
working in my flower garden
on a sunny Sunday morning.

Then a poem pulls up
driving a red mustang convertible.
its throaty roar from the 289 Engine
turns my head around.
I remember this car
and this beautiful poem.

I sit in the still familiar back  seat.
It wants me to unbutton my shirt
and unhook my bra.
The poem recites it's soft downy words.
I notice I have taken all my clothes off
like a white pale statue.

I notice the reflection of my naked self
so desirable so hot so ****.
I still have it I feel it
I know it.

Afterwards
the poem and I
smoke a cigarette
talk of Forever's
and marriage
and other untruths.