I'm turning into a real Muenster

I don’t wish to age like cheese,

or smell like wine.

I never want to be a hanky,

for someone’s sneeze

get tennis elbow -

in my knees,

or froth like beer in a stein.

I don’t care to reminisce

about good old days,

yesteryear -  or

things that might have been.

Just a frosted glass

an olive or two –

and I’d gladly reek of gin.

 This post smells a little cheesy