He was the most pessimistic of optimists,
maintaining the glass half full
but the wine insipid and tasteless.
He had once embraced an Autumn day
yet thought the leaves not red–
and breathed yellow dust
which itched his eyes
and made him sneeze.
The things he most believed
he looked upon with questioning glance–
afraid that they might fail him, though
he held them firm within his heart.
And one day, unknowing how,
he found himself become
the most optimistic of pessimists.