At forty-four years old you’re as graceful as a palm tree;
Grapes, with their lushness, have nothing on your lush body;
A thousand faces light up at the sight of your smile;
Roses for smell, apples for taste, and your touch
Brings warmth. The cosmic rays are dim and lifeless
But the colors in your eyes are bright and alive.
Your neck is like Trajan’s victory column, long,
Elegant and beautiful with the carvings around it
Mona Lisa is pleasing to the eyes, yet mine long
For the viral grace of your ***** and mature curves;
Diamonds with all their glory are not as tempting as you,
with your gray, enchanting hair and laughter lines.
My love is round and plump at four and forty
Years old, with ******* that refuse to sag with age.
This is a sonnet i wrote for all the beautiful women ageing gracefully.
