The Grump

With temperance and lacking satisfaction the old laggard sat.

Eyes dully glowing, his countenance was an inversion

Removing light, undoing kind words, curmudgeonly and mean.

His stump was a podium to the world, preaching

Preaching, preaching his gospel of benign malcontent.

He was the mud in the clearest pool, the dark cloud chasing the silver linings

Intent on vanquishing them far away, his mood needing no company of their sort.

And when the pretty girls swished gaily by, he sneered at their rosy cheeks

And when the children frolicked at his feet

Playing with their paper boats in the puddles of the street

He shooed them away with a shout and a wave of his stick.

And when the old, mangy dog with no home lumbered by and growled,

He patted his head and said “Now here’s a chap.”