Optimists

My husband  is an optimist manque
He eats porridge oats made from clay.
Then he  spends all day long
In the bathroom, in song.
It’s so good to know  when he  is gay.

I am an optimist too.
I fasten my mind up with glue
I don’t want to change it
Nor even rearrange it.
With cliches’tis crudely bestrewed.