There was a bright, sunny day long ago, you see,
When some muffins were made for you and me.
But the chef who made these lovely pastries
Forgot the sugar because he was too hasty.
Between the cranberries and the lack of sweet
and a bit of mutation that started to leak,
A muffin sprouted a leg or two or three,
and grew a bitter mission to stamp out glee.
He never knew sugar to help medicine go down.
He never knew more happiness than a frown.
He never liked colors expect his own shade of brown.
He only wanted to turn smiles upside down.
But after a while he met a cool, sweet girl,
Who was made entirely out of icing swirl.
She swooped in and out and around his world,
She was so nice to him he wanted to hurl.
No matter how he growled and how he moaned,
She would never leave this curmudgeon alone.
And one day when he wasn't watching his tone,
He cracked a small smile when he seemed alone.
But she saw his grand grin and his cranberry teeth,
She flew to him and wraped his head like a wreath.
He recoiled and pushed and tried to feign bitter grief
But she hugged him tight and it was beyond his belief.
Her sweetness seeped into him until he ached,
He stopped and breathed, realized he couldn't fake.
She sweetened his heart, mind, and three legs baked.
And that, my child is how we got cupcakes.
Dedicated to Lowrey Brown, the most curmudgeonly muffin I know.
