Upon Reflection

She looks in the mirror, and notices:
A lamentable loss of youthful glow
The gray growing in her hair
And fine lines around the eyes
That absurd little wattle beneath her chin
Not much more than a ridge so far
Those breasts have seen better days
Drooping a bit with the weight of gravity and years
But still full, soft, a delight to know
And her stomach, now a sweet bulge
Not the toned plain she once knew
Lower still:
She strokes the golden fleece between her legs
Could maybe use a trim, perhaps a shave
And those sweet thighs, plumper but still a pleasure
Just powerful enough to kick some ass
She twists, noting that her own's holding up pretty well
Not bad, all things considered
A Goddess standing in the lingering steam
A gift to one and all
Smiling as her male muse appears
His reflection joining hers
And whispering:
"You are perfection, nothing more,
And certainly nothing less."