Her fire and slippers call her ever more
The cougar still takes to the dance floor.
The cubs she tries now to entice
Turn and ask her “What's her price?”
Bedecked bejeweled, her senses honed
But sipping vodka shots, still all alone.
The cougar losing her matriarchal hold
Younger cougars compete ever more bold.
Her latest prey so good, she wanted more
Turned in the bed, heard the click of the door.
A tap on the shoulder an aging man stands there
Wrinkled eyes, spare tyre, and thinning hair.
He says he’s watched her for a while
He knows he not quite her style.
Would she partake of a drink with him?
Her eyes wander to the cubs so slim.
Her hem length lengthens, her cleavage covered
The dance floors too loud, she feels smothered,
They now sit in a quite calm restaurant
Holding hands, this is what she wants.
Her cougar days are now ever gone
She has lit the fire with a special one.
Her stiletto shoes gone, they no more make her wince
She kissed the aging man, he turned into her prince.