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.