How mature people talk

I am fifty-four now

I can write my lines

go for a long morning walk

but I still do not know how

mature people talk!

All the time, they are serious and grim 

their tension in the crown alone shines

whether on the staircase or in the lift

going to work, or workout at the gym

they do smile, but are always prepared for the rift.

At conferences, seminars or discussions

they need to win with what they opine

I feel like hugging them warm and tight

with the little of child-like gumption

so they enjoy the moments, without meaningless fights.

I see them hiding behind the words

somber, they know they are not fine

their feelings bleed a thousand tears

would never listen, concur in their juvenile world

die delinquent deaths in imaginative fears.

When I was a sophomore

I was much the same, outdated infantine*

was direct, blunt; could never know

how to work smart and talk more

to mind my Ps and Qs, and win the show.

I am sure when I will be ninety-four

I will ponder over a glass of wine

how grownups cleverly converse, conquer and rock

I am sure I’d be shocked thinking of the yore

I’d wonder still, how mature people talk!

Note: infantine* - archaic word meaning infantile