The maturity of innocence

Those kohl-rimmed, expressive eyes hold secrets
of tales untold and prophecies profound.

Swathed in your armor of silence
your serene smile stays strong
through everything that stands in your way.

     Maturity is not counted by the number of candles on your cake
     or the furrows on your forehead and calluses on your palms
     It is the cloak you wear so well – it is your second skin
     made of dreams and memories.

Clouded by the maturity of experience
you grow in dimensions unknown to man,
reach startling heights and widen the expanse of your heart
encompassing everybody and everything
while the innocence of youth still shines through bright and pure.