Fifteen, a number, a simple decree,
A midpoint, a balance, a harmony.
Fifteen days past the month’s young start,
A teenage year, a hopeful heart.

A baker’s dozen, with two more to spare,
A quarter and three, a thoughtful share.
Fifteen minutes, a pause in the day,
A moment to reflect, to stop and to stay.

So let us appreciate this number of grace,
A stepping stone, a steady pace.
Fifteen, a symbol, a promise untold,
A chapter yet written, a story to unfold.

A whisper caught in twilight's gleam,
A fleeting dream, a fragile scheme.
Like morning mist, it softly creeps,
Through shadowed depths where silence sleeps.

A touch of grace, a fleeting art,
A tender beat, a soulful start.
In echoes faint, the spirit's plea,
A longing soul, wild and free.

As shadows dance and stars ignite,
A flicker hope, a guiding light.
In transient moments, beauty's born,
A fragile bloom, a precious morn.