We were invited to a barmitzvah at the start of this war,

An evening of fun, dancing and good food in store,

I looked into my cupboard to choose what to wear,

But it was not like dressing for a usual affair,

High heels were out, what if I needed to sprint,

To the nearest bomb shelter during a siren stint,

A short dress was risky, what if I needed to crouch,

And the skirt rode up too high, embarrassing, ouch,

Anything slinky and tight I would need to try out,

To see if I could flap my arms over my head and about,

If I needed to jump out of a car lying flat on the ground,

In the dirt, on the road, or on an unidentified mound,

And my dress should be car proof, if while sprawled,

A vehicle ran over me, once the missile was fooled,

Well nothing too expensive, which could be torn,

And nothing brand new, which had not been worn,

What if glass and shrapnel would fall over me,

I needed an armored protective outfit I could see,

I don’t usually wear a hat, but what of my head,

No loose curls tonight, but a helmet instead,

I searched and searched my wardrobe of clothes,

But unfortunately, I do not own one of those,

Although it is possible to be dressed to kill,

There’s a gap in the market, I don’t want to fill,

For Barmitzvah clothes, protective against war,

A lucrative business for any war mongering store.