Wrinkle wrinkle little star, won't
you tell me, where you are? I
look each morning, at my face
and lucky me, there's not a one,
in place! My skin, is as it always
was, soft and subtle too and lucky,
lucky me, I'm one of the chosen few!
Of course, I have my family's genes
to thank, for this wonderful gift. And
when you reach the golden years, it
gives you, a wonderful lift! So far, no
one, has ever been able to guess my
age and I doubt, they ever will. When
they look at me, they take me for so
much younger, never realizing, I'm
almost, over the hill! Can you imagine,
what this has done, for my moral? It
would do, the same for any gal! So
here's to genetics, for the wonders it
can do. For I'll always, look so much
younger which is a gift I'll cherish, until
my life, is through!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem