They say it is an art
It keeps me quite apart
It's never seen as good
Yet happy me not
understood

My grumpy life is good
I see the roses
Tinted love
My sadness makes me happy
From such a grumpy chappy

It is the way to go
The docs do say
It's so
I'll live a little longer life
More grumps i say as I get
older  

I start the day full moan
A grumpiness full drone
It never ever leaves me
My grumpy tree  
Pure freedom

So next time I'm about
Expect a grumpy shout
You'll know its from my heart
My grumpy life
This sad old ****

I am hopelessly attracted to grumpiness
                                               impatience
                                               poignancy
                                               eccentricity
                                               introversion
                                               stubbornness
                                               anxiety
                                               misanthropy
                                               frustration
                                               hedonism
                                               vulgarity

How, then, do I define 'imperfection'?

Worry had never been the cause
of his laughter lines, the kindly crow's feet,
except that moment; the time
we all realised.
Being old had other symptoms
than grumpiness, and white hair.

So, like watching a monument crumble,
we saw the old man shudder and shake.
Then with mouths agape, we knew
he had other flaws, our Old Wise Owl,
and so it turns out,
our Grandfather, placed on the pedestal tall,
was, in fact, afraid of heights.

I hope you can deal with my grumpiness in the morning
My snoring through the night
Sometimes I even talk in my sleep
I'll want you to cook all the time and cuddle me too
I hope you're warm and smell good
Please be able to take a joke
I love to laugh
Love me with all you have
Kiss me like it's the last time you ever will
Look past my eyes and into my soul
See me for my heart and not the body it's attached to
Love me for me and I'll do the same for you
My future husband, I love you.

I work with many elderly people and they all sing the same song.
“Honey, whatever you do, don’t get old.”
They usually say this when a seemingly simple task is too difficult.
Their bones all sing the same the song too.
A stiff tune, no rhythm, off key.
Every movement, an awkward note in a song no one wants to sing.
It makes me realize how little my body has lived, and how ungrateful I am.
On the days when I “can’t” get out of bed,
I inevitably end up swinging my legs over the edge,
And hopping up, greeting a day of possibility with grumpiness.
Oh what my friends would give for my bones,
The joints that move them, the muscles that carry.
My body is an upbeat, joyful song I rarely let anyone hear.
I feel as if my body is heavy with the weight of the future on my chest;
Theirs is heavy with the past on their back.
But how lucky are they to have lived such long lives,
Lives full enough that their body can’t recover.
And how lucky am I to have one before me…
And though they can’t hop out of bed,
I cannot count the number of times they’ve danced with me while I am holding them up.
Can you imagine? Loving life so much that you’re willing to risk extra aching and pain,
All for a second of pure joy.
Just for a second, of two perfectly imperfect melodies, harmonizing.
Just for a second, two young souls,
Dancing.

A quiet yawn, and a soft pop of bones coming into place could be heard from the bedroom as one of its owners slowly rose from her short slumber. She wasn't meant to be awake until the afternoon, but it was a bit difficult for her to break the habit of waking early.

Looking off to the side, a small smile quickly made its way to her lips as she saw that her partner was still fast asleep. Supressing the urge to snap a quick picture, she slowly made her way out of the bed, making sure to leave a pillow on her spot just in case her lover decided to cuddle in his sleep a bit.

He always did love holding her close--regardless of whether or not he was awake--and she loved letting him do it.

Using the back of her hand to gently rub the sleep away from her still blurry eyes, she made a quick trip to the bathroom. Being in just her underwear wasn't exactly going to be enough protection from the chilly morning air, but she was a bit too lazy and sluggish to fetch proper clothing.

She was hoping that she could use it as an excuse for him to warm her up with plenty of hugs later on when he wakes up.

Once that was all said and done, she immediately went to the kitchen. Admittedly, she was never really all that good in cooking, but it wouldn't hurt to try and make an effort for her sleeping beauty. Making sure to grab her striped apron, she got to work on their breakfast.

Going back to the bedroom, her lover had just woken up as well. With a soft groan, and a displeased frown on his lips, he looked towards his side.

She was gone.

It was no wonder that he had suddenly woken up from his dreamless sleep.

Still, once hearing the faint echo of pans, and footsteps from their kitchen, his frown immediately disappeared. With a content sigh, he went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit, before immediately going to the kitchen.

He leaned against the side of the entryway and watched as she hummed and seemingly skipped around the kitchen. He was never much of a morning person, but he did love to watch her cook, and that was enough to keep his usual grumpiness at bay. It was amusing how happy she was while cooking, and at the same time, he couldn't help but feel incredibly grateful that she had decided to completely give herself to him.

He considered himself to be a lucky man.

Even if he might not realize it, she undoubttedly felt the same way about him.

With a chuckle, he quietly made his way to her. Placing both of his hands on either side of her, he had successfully trapped her between him and the kitchen counter. Feeling her body jump a bit in surprise, he didn't hesitate to lean down and press a soft kiss to her exposed neck. It had always amused him how small she was compared to him.

Their size difference had been one of her many insecurities, but admittedly, he actually liked it--especially whenever they idly cuddle while watching movies, or even doing nothing.

"Good morning~" her voice was soft and sweet with hints of sleepiness still mixed in.

"G'morning." He continued to press kisses to her neck, making sure to pay extra attention to the still-visible hickeys from last night. She was a bit rigid at first, but slowly, her body relaxed, and she allowed herself to lean against him. She tilted her head to the side, giving him much better access to her sensitive neck.

"What, no morning kisses?" She teased and decided to stop what she was currently doing. He was being too much of a welcomed distraction, and she didn't want any accidents to happen because of it.

No sooner, he gently grabbed her chin to tilt her head to face him, and pressed a kiss to her still-parted lips.
The kiss was short, and sweet, but it didn't really seem to be enough for the both of them.

"One more?"
He didn't need to be told twice. In fact, he would be happy to repeat it multiple times for her. True to what he thought, he did it again, and again, and again--with each one being more intense than the last.

The only reason he stopped was when he noticed that her chest heaved, and that they were both out of breath. Still, he would be lying if he said that he didn't want more.

It didn't exactly take long for him to ask, "Would it be alright if we skipped to dessert first, love?"

Trapped in her dazed state, all she could do in response was nod.

The difference she’s made
Loved this sad sack of a man
Into a winning dude
Grumpiness left
What a success
Life finally arrived
We hooked up together
It’s so much better
We do it in style
Yes, the difference she’s made
Now I behave
Doing so willingly
She showed up
Once she did
Finally I arrived

I expect this will get some strong anti-comments, the very mention of G_d often being a source of contention and vexation for some.  We'll see.  
    Letter To God🧘‍♀️

Dear God,
I asked you to control my day
Take over whatsoever comes my way,
Well aware, for goodness sake
It’s you who have supremacy.
(You or That or It - who cares?)
Energy directive, prime and rare).

It is a bit embarrassing because I know,
At least discern
A well few poets who convey
A God-ie language publicly.
It isn’t ‘in’.

I’m not religious, not fanatic,
But to go inside the attic of the mind and find out more,
Then write it down, I have to take the chance of boring
All the others who have not  
The need to say, pray, meditate or concentrate,
Think, question all the bigger contemplative questions
                                               of existence:
For example how we…who we… where we go:
Birth, breath, life, death:, seeds to sow.

And so the first thing in the day
I meditate or pray
Using words or saying nothing.
It’s a process with authority.
That seems to guide, hold sway
And influence behaviour,
Healing slumps, the ‘dumps’, grumpiness and moping -
Maybe not concealing’s right: a good thing.

I’d no intention of divulging
This inaudible, non-public action.
But there’s nothing wrong with making known
This ‘sort of’ godly telephone
And inmost conversation.

Anyway, I’m in the mood, the neighborhood
And as I said prosaically,
Perhaps it will do someone good.

Letter To God 1.19.2020 To The Child Mystic II; The Processes: Creative.Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

I'm giving lessons
in taking lessons
I'm lecturing
on listening
I'm telling everyone
I know
about solitude
and how I just
want to be
left alone
whilst secretly hoping
you'll ignore
my protestations
and keep me company
while I'm something
like fake grumpiness
going on and on about being
another thing
like real happiness
that I don't trust