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Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2257587
Age is just a number, the summer may fade but it's spirit is always afresh
She tried on the lovely red dress
knowing fully well what comment she'll get.
Sighing, she caressed the satin,
her face alight as she checked her silhouette.

She thought of that summer long ago,
when she had met him, wearing a pretty red frock.
Now, here they were, all wrinkled,
celebrating their love, surrounded by their flock.

"Do you think it's ok?" she asked,
as her grandchildren peered, looking closely.
Smiling, they hugged her, "We hope
we age like you grandma, you are just lovely!"
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