Smile

Do you know of the unkind man?
I wish I could say he is uncommon.
He walks through the streets
And drives by any time of day.
He sits behind the counter, the desk,
And makes the world seem grey.
He throws about his insults,
So impolite is his nature,
As if it were privilege
Of his self-proclaimed stature.
He walks with an unsteadiness
That guises as good posture,
And he croaks and moans
At the sound of the joy he
Has desperately sought after.
This man is among many alike
And they have forgotten
That joy is earned,
Not entitled, and seek to steal it
From other men and women.
As this man tries to deny you
What he himself cannot find,
Simply smile and bow, curtsy, if you will,
And deliberately appear too kind.
The greatest of insults to the unkind man
Is to make him shake on the place he stands
With unwavering character, politeness galore,

And a smile so bright he melts to the floor.