There was a time, I hate to lose in life.

In everything and every little thing,

Even as small a thing as choosing the wrong queue.

In situations where I lost, I would turn it to gain.

One could turn almost everything in life to gain.

Counting it as lessons learned.

Today, I view things differently.

Who is winner, who is loser?

Different attitude, different perspective.

Gives a different answer too.

Standing behind a woman waiting in line.

I asked her, can we form a second line?

No, she told me, face unsmiling,

Refusing to even look at me.

In the past, that might make me bristle.

Today, I found it humorous.

Just the fact, there can be someone so joyless.

That alone could be humorous in itself.

Though it should not be, it should be sad.

Who is the loser, winner here?

The woman might think she is the winner.

She nicely put a person down.

I could think I am the one who lose.

The woman being mean to me.

But I was the winner. I turned what could be.

An ugly situation into one of humor and compassion.

I bear the woman no grudge.

Life has to be hard to be so joyless.

I rather laugh my way through life.

And have my mother called me crackpot.

All over again.

I asked her, my mother, why she called me crackpot.

She told me, because as a child,

I would laugh when there is nothing to laugh at.

Good natured, born good natured, so they told me.