A Poem about Mid Life Crisis.

She

She's six foot tall,
hangs out at the mall,
she's only nineteen,
which is plainly seen.

If only I could talk to her,
but she would call me sir,
I couldn't be so bold,
if only I weren't so old.

I see her from my table,
her legs go up to her navel,
if I could gain her heart,
we would never part.