For six months there’s been far more white than grey in hair that shows the strain of surgery. To say her health is strong is perjury but she has strength to greet with joy each day.
An anniversary of forty-one short years as wife and husband come around. She’s proud the negligée in which she’s gowned once more entices me to share our fun.
With straps of black, and lace that’s trimmed with red she is assured that she beguiles me still. She knows, no matter age or shape, I thrill to be with her, so drags me off to bed.
Defences I have none, so magicked in her trance. For all our years she tamed and held me with her glance.
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