Grrr

It’s the grotty feeling I get
when you can’t grasp
that I’m growing old,
too old for these gruelling
games of ‘we don’t agree’,
because I sense your grim disdain
and I hate your glowering grievance,
it grates against my granite pride
and makes me feel ungrateful.
Waiting for your gratuitous grin
which tries my groggy patience
and creates such a great graze,
streaking grime on any mutual growth
in understanding the gratitude
most would grab, even on a grey day.
So stop this grave loathing
and greet me not with gripe but with your grit.