The Grump (Poem, #2)

An old man in leather shoes,

Grumpy spirited as a bear,

Tramps into a coffee shop,

And does not look about except to glare,

While he awaits his dark black coffee

A ferocious grump

He never notices the flowers

He is crumpled in his manner,

He is messy with his hair.

He holds the mug and waits for coffee,

Frowning from behind his thick eyebrows.

He holds his daily paper,

And watches with eyes that are empty as his unfilled cup.

When he finally gets his mug,

No! He does not bug down in some cozy chair.

He goes into the men’s room

And spends over 30 minutes there!

He finds the bathroom very peaceful.

He is cowardly I suppose

For he never wants to face the buzzing world,

They are beneath him,

Yet in a strange way, he needs the human presence

But shelters slurping coffee, on some other person’s commode.

Perhaps if he had married his sweetheart

He wouldn’t have been alone.

Right now he would have been sitting,

Grandchildren nestled in his lap,

Sipping his coffee around people that he actually liked.

No one,

Not one knows who he is, but only thinks

He is disgusting as can be,

For the line of waiting people shoots at least a mile out the door.

Alas but shame eludes his unconcerned watch.

How does one man cause such a load of care?

He is mindful of himself,

But others’ cares he cannot see.

At last, this slow man, rises growling from his throne

And exits with a grumpy grace and air

The lines of people frown,

As a snarl rolls through the crowd.

But nobly,

Yes nobly, his aged heels step through the parted sea of anger.

The crowd gives off a happy groan,

It is a relief,

For he is gone.