A Woman Well Lived Poem by John F. McCullagh

Her skin may bear some marks
from the Sun she has faced,
but she still holds a beauty
that time can't erase.
The blonde hair of her youth
now is silver and gold,
but her scent is alluring
and she's tempting to hold.
She's a Woman well Lived.
She is sixty years old.
Her life isn't over,
despite what she's been told.
Her breasts are translucent.
Blue veined and full.
A hand full and more
and enjoyable still.
Her kisses still sweet
as the day we first met.
The time, passing quickly,
gave no cause for regret.
So come lie with me, Love,
ere the evening is gone.
Don't be the least shy
we can leave the lights on.