::
The
mirror
reflects her
beautiful truth.
:::::
Wrinkled stories weaved
with pretty lines on her face,
gorgeous experienced grace,
twinkled eyes don’t lie.
:::::
Glamorous grey
confidence,
never
quite
feeling
old enough
to know better.
:::::
Body flashes hot,
she calls it a power surge
and always resists the urge
to wish from fountains.
:::::
Kicking back her
discounted
caffeine
shots,
she eats
whatever
the hell she wants.
:::::
Making moments count,
embracing her grains of sand,
holding them tightly in hand,
she builds her castle.
:::::
Thankful for her
aged fine wine
drunken
soul.
::









but ofcourse its a gold winner.. poet keep on poeting
incase it works.. i pitty the fool that dont like this poem sucka!












All women are beautiful but as they get older they seem to understand its more than just physical. Its the whole package. Excellent poem!













86 old applause
