So mature of heart are young words written,
Sharing first loves pain and all of its misery.
But there is something missing in it all,
Their young souls written… of their life’s victories.
They sound so mature…yet remain but mother’s breast fed babes,
Hormones stirring up…in its pot of mixed felt emotions,
Of mixed childlike feelings still being played.
They feel as though they’ve seen it all,
And maybe done it all too?
Do you remember when you were that young?
And maybe had those same feelings felt inside of you.
Wasn’t really THAT long ago,
That you can’t remember back when.
That you felt; “I’m going to die if not, ”
And couldn’t maybe wait until when!
A young broken heart is hard to heal,
If not repaired first inside the soul of man.
It makes us more then we could ever expect,
It helped to make me…. That, for which in Christ I am.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem