December dinner parties do not thrive
Unless the dinner party ends at five.
Nor do we go to operas or ballets
Unless we're ticketed for matinees.
And when we take our grandkids on the town,
We must get back before the sun goes down.
Our social light is suffering from blight
As, one by one, we cease to drive at night.
We sensibly accept that we must squint
Whenever we confront the finer print.
We know our blusher cannot be applied
Unless our mirror's triple-magnified.
We count on bifocals to mend the blur
That sometimes makes a him look like a her.
But when the day is done, we're out of sight
As, one by one, we cease to drive at night.
Our new best friends may lack of charm and spark
But they can see the road when it is dark.
The widows bypass prepossessing guys
For schlumps possessed of twenty-twenty eyes.
And when it's evening and we're needing cars,
We'd pick up fellows (if we could) in bars.
We've grown to fear the fading of the light,
As, one by one, we cease to drive at night.
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