There’s a girl, at sixteen she’s a bronze,
Twentyfive; she’s a glittering silver in clothes,
Thirty; she’s as valuable as minas of golds
They say, her beauty and halo never folds.
Dam at forty; away she still steals my breath!
Deeply deep down, drowning dock depth,
Daring and violating, my lungs and heart,
Downtown with sexuality of natural fit.
Fifty, she’s an object of great astonishment,
Forever, she is a rising accomplishment
Flowing in Ocean, Sea, Stream and River,
Fluorescing; her presence blows my cover.
Sixtyfold, out of the nice ice cold shower,
She’s still that leaf of my cover and clover,
She’s my passion, red rose and flower,
She’s my crush and emotionally trusted partner.
Seventy; she’s snow white in my cold frost,
Sweet grey, a diamond in my treasure crest
So kneeling to her for a finger ring is no regret,
Since she’s still that rose with a pleasant scent.
Eighty; she tweaks her tenderness of sweet sixteen
Erotically sensational, so sweet and clean;
End to end, I see not through her lovely sight
Especially while reading her mind and heart.
Ninety; she’s still that lovely township girl
Nest of sweet rural pleasantries, hot as hell,
Now we sit, underneath the moon and tell
Nose to the skies, in melodies of jingle bell.
Hundred; she’s my ride home to snowy ice
Huge marginal figure, bride and apple of my eyes,
Honestly; she still have same sound and sight,
Her humour still rocks and shine so bright.
A hundred and fifty; we shall still hug and kiss
As the World spines; and rattlesnakes hiss,
Allowing shadows to know eternal flames
Along this allusion, I shall wish, to see how deep it is.
Author : Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu