Maturity in Infancy

Can you possibly recall the day
That we stopped and stood up to say,
"We are much too old to play,
We must not behave in this childish way! "

And so we proceeded to mature.
We do not whine, we endure.
Our innocence has wandered, we have no cure.
And our moments of bliss are fewer and fewer.

But we are now adults this day,
And such has always been the way.
Our path is set, we cannot stray...
And yet, we do not feel as gay.

As gay as when we were a child,
When everyday we'd run so wild.
Our world a playroom; toys all piled.
And bouts of sadness were often mild.

And yet, are we happy...truly?
Would we rather be unruly,
Instead of behaving coldly, cruelly?
Or should we be teddies,warm and woolly?

This inner battle, this constant fight,
Adult and Child waging war with all their might.
We cannot tell which is wrong or right.
So we struggle... morning, noon and night.

Until one day the blindness fell,
The answer rang forth like the toll of a bell.
There are times when we can play and yell
And times to act maturely, as well.

The war is over, the fighting done.
A new way of life has begun.
We can sometimes walk and sometimes run,
But even as adults, we can still have fun!