What a joy, my tiny tweezer,

Economic people-pleaser.

No more waxing, money’s tight.

I pull my own hairs out at night.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

And lately much to my chagrin

Eyebrows sprout upon my chin.

(Unless the light is set most dimly

I could be seen as Wilfred Brimley.)

Oh implement so small and humble,

Despite your help I often fumble.

But satisfactions of a tweeze

Give pleasures of a full-blown sneeze.

Destruction of an errant stray

Is tweezer-gasm, in a way.

So I exalt you, useful tweezers:

Hair-zap weapons of us geezers.