Mature in her youth.
Young in her maturity.
Oh, to be sixteen.

Growing old too fast.
But growing up too slowly.
Today: infinite.

Tip-toeing the line
Leaping 'tween the trapezes.
Balancing it all.

Aged so sweetly, loved
So deeply; she is a bud
Blooming in winter.

She is a princess.
High heels, a little black dress.
Face lit up with hope.

Bid old days so long.
She will dance alone no more.
We all go with her.

We all grow with her.