Curmudgeon

I’ve somehow become a curmudgeon. Before you pooh-pooh and go judgin,’ Just wait ‘til your age Hits the outmoded stage Yet from all you believe you’re not budgin.’ I take note of the way people act And don’t think that I overreact When all manners have fled Leaving, sadly, instead Those who barrel through life without tact. All the truths that I’ve harbored for years Have gone rusty or somehow switched gears But curmudgeons can growl, Grumble, bellow or howl Which feels better than sorrow or tears.