Of Immaturity Poem by Franco D'Elia

The old days of the immature have gone astray
Look upon the mothers gaze, her child a man in a day
Walk this step of one hundred times, each of us has yet to own
Know the love that sheds in a youth of pain that shows
And go again and live the life in the night, the moon that is full tonight
Oh sweet flowers bloom in the hectic noon that is of me and was of you
Go place the note by the garden door and look upon these days that move away
So away, this away, far away
The immature grow to men and women and see the plague that brings it to them
That knew of pain and knew of strife, this mother has no right
Bring the day that fly's this pain to go away
And to bring the birds that are not faint, in this life of immaturity
Oh this life, so long of this, what I don't know
Walking away, so silent in the day, the air comes with this memory, so free of this day
Be it as it may and so as it was, long blocks tire my legs and such was this love
That does me no good but to tear and toil in my past that brings this pain, which is of you
So let me live, and walk my long blocks, of those things of....
Of immaturity, the young boy the young girl
Grow to the adult of the cycle of the world that comes with each ego
That goes with each day; these old days are of new
And so all the birds and tress knew, that this day is new, and that this day is so true
And that this day is here for me and not for you
For me, but I still ponder the depths of this tragedy
Why live in this now and how I wish I lived in that then
I still long for the past, sadly
Still, I long for those days of immaturity
Those days that were so long and those years that are long gone