Thirteen

Thirteen, thirteen,
Unlucky for some
But not for me
All the many (many) years between
Eighty four and seventy one
You still have the nicest bum
Of any man I have ever seen.

Thirteen, thirteen,
What a head start on the things you’ve done,
While I was still a wayward teen,
Ginger, ridiculous and naive,
No wonder you know how the world should be run
And stay inside with cocoa to read for fun
Which I find really quite sexy.

Thirteen, thirteen,
You who didn’t plan to woo me and still won
An hour in the Parish and home for tea,
For an optional stay in the library (seriously?)
It’s a constant battle to keep my underwear on
And I love you even when you’re a curmudgeon
Grumpy, silly, lovely, lucky thirteen.