The Bouquet of wines

On the eve of my birthday
While I sit adorning grey
I receive a bouquet of wines
Of various kinds, of various times
My father questions the very next morning
Without a sigh, without a warning
I could recall just one of the few lines
Intently I’m asked “Who sends you these wines?”
Said I, I’m one of the many
He need not spend a penny
He orders his confidante
To discharge his want
He seemed convinced with the argument
I may be saved, in no need to augment
My explanation stands accepted
But it could be well contested
To be prepared next time
Looking askance
Conjectured I his stance
Reaching the conclusion
That cleared my confusion
A thought I couldn’t possibly deny
With a grin, with a sparkle in my eye
Enjoy till it’s my prime
Beauty so sublime
Sending gifts to a pretty young lady isn’t such a big crime!
