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.
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