Sunday, July 18, 2010
THE CURMUDGEON
Curmudgeon hoards snacks
In his room, crumbs everywhere
Cookies are his gold
Each thing has a place
For the old man-- don't move one
Or his world tilts up
Half eaten fudge ages
In a drawer, hardening -- but
Cherished as silver
An apple, red grapes,
These are his jewels, treasured
Until they wither
He doesn't notice
When peach has turned to gray dust,
He lives forever
Each day he gets grapes
From the store, puts them away
For a rainy month
Nearing 100,
He stockpiles pears but not time--
He glares if questioned
The curmudgeon rules
His universe is small, but
All is in reach
He forgets time, but
Remembers meals, eats well, nods,
Is polite to staff
"Leave my things alone!"
Means his universe must stay
Recognizable
A pen moved over
Could change the order of things
He rules in his room
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