The lodge in harsh flourescent light <br />is hung with tired pre-loved tinsel <br />and orange vinyl chairs sit side by side <br />in even rows and trestle tables laid <br /> <br />with paper cloths are red and green <br />and chipped glass bowls hold chips <br />and nuts and brightly colored sweets <br />and cans of coke and lemonade <br /> <br />The room fills up with suited men in ties <br />and wives in fancy frocks and pearls <br />The women gather awkwardly in groups <br />The men stand with their cans of beer <br /> <br />A five-piece band plays swing <br />and rock-n roll with equal verve <br />The pianist young with Liberace flare <br />The others play in tune and laugh a lot <br /> <br />At eight o'clock the supper is announced <br />The men and women form a tidy line, which <br />shuffles past the salads, chicken, ham <br />and cutlery like porcupines in jars <br /> <br />And then the couples make their way, in <br />ones and twos toward the polished boards <br />George is blind. His wife, a large and loving <br />woman guides him deftly across the floor <br /> <br />At nearly eighty four Bill Blood is slight <br />with light grey shoes and awful greasy hair <br />He holds his dumpy mottled little wife <br />with confidence and graceful easy flare <br /> <br />The other couples shuffle back and forth <br />some in, some out of time, all comfortable <br />The band plays numbers everybody knows <br />and those still seated nod their drowsy heads <br /> <br />At ten o'clock the raffle draw's announced <br />and patrons view their tickets blue and green <br />and happy winners rise and make their choice <br />from awful gifts gift-wrapped upon the table. <br /> <br />It's late before we bid our fond farewells <br />to gentlemen who gather once a month <br />and share Masonic camaraderie <br />that happily inspired this little poem.<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/masonic-christmas-party-2006/
