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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