“Think,” he thrust, “of the crisp days behind you.”

Advance, “A simple time, before TV,

when love tied ribbons on an old oak tree.”

I riposte, “Ain’t you proud of how we grew?”

“Proud!” his parry, “Of what life turned into?”

Lunge, “Death and plots against our liberty!”

My parry, “Don’t you blame this all on me,

you can’t fool us, Grandpa, we know life blew.”

“I don’t believe you truly had bliss!

See through the fog of time! Things sucked back then,

just in technicolor,” counter six, swoosh

Like Icarus we rise and like Icarus

we fall. So, Grandpa, you will not pretend

that Elysium is where you lie.” Touche