My family thinks that I’m negative,
That I frown, and I grimace, and I grouch;
That I am always argumentative,
And that my feral mustache seems to crouch.
My eyebrows cast a shadow o’er my face;
A gargoyle overshadowed by a tree.
Expressions happen in that hidden space,
And so, my smile is sometimes hard to see.
I seem, by nature, distant and alone,
For covert reasons, silent, and arcane.
Perhaps I’m simply surly to the bone,
Or maybe I’m distracted and in pain.
If I choose to answer with a bludgeon:
Don’t assume I’m just an old curmudgeon.
Mick McKellar
September 2015
Chronic pain and discomfort can color your life with darker hues and purple shadows. It can be difficult to convince others that your brightest flash of shimmering grace is that you continue to function, and that: “Yes, I really am smiling!”
Mick
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