I've fallen in love with the life I live,
Though my words often sing shadows of pain;
Ignoring those who have chosen to give
All they can, my precious life to retain.
Though my verbal barrages, thundering,
Echo of deep-hidden pain and despair;
A voice acerbic, often sundering
Love from compassion and duty from care;
My heart feels deeply what my eyes can't see,
And my ego's reluctant to admit:
That others have given a lot to me,
So much, I can barely comprehend it.
Though I act a curmudgeon, please forgive:
I've fallen in love with the life I live.
I admit it: I am, sometimes, a curmudgeon. What is a curmudgeon? To be accurate, I looked it up and found this definition: a crusty, irascible, cantankerous, old person, full of stubborn ideas. Just imagine this guy...footsore, short of breath, and angry. That's me on a dark day, when I grumble, grouse, and grouch about, acting the churlish crosspatch for no apparent reason.
When my CML hayride began, I had many dark days and I think I fought on out of sheer stubbornness. However, I didn't fight alone. So many prayed, sent supportive messages and cards, and helped physically and fiscally, I was overwhelmed. My prose and poetry sometimes became somber and dark. Although I remain a semi-curmudgeon out of habit; I ask for patience. I may still take a walk in the shadows, but I have, indeed, fallen in love with the life I live -- and I live in the light friends and family give.