A Fine Vintageby.                  By.                                        MissT

They say I’m older, past my prime,
I say I’m aged, a rich red wine.
With every year I gain more flair,
a velvet wit, a bold-eyed stare.

I don’t chase boys, I make them trip,
with just a smile, a sway, a quip.
It’s not the years that steal the show,
it’s knowing what I want, and letting it show.

So count my candles if you must,
each one burns brighter, ripe with lust.
Age is my armour, sass my crown,
I’m oaked, I’m spiced, I won’t tone down.

So let them whisper, let them grin,
I’ll toast the years with tonic and gin.
A fine vintage, cheeky and free,
growing older tastes divine on me.