Unlocked the door, back home at last
Insanity of the workweek had finally passed,
Kicked off the heels, slipped out of the dress
Let down my hair; my mind at rest.

Unhooked the pearls behind my neck
Looked in the mirror and began to reflect
Not sure at first what I started to see
And then my reflection spoke back to me.

"Hey, girl," she said, "Your roots are showing.
Don't deny the winds of change are blowing.
Wear that façade as much as you like.
But down in your soul you know I'm right."

That image spoke the truth before I did
Getting back to the roots I grew as a kid.
In faded blue jeans and bright Mexican tops
Bare feet in the summer and a tangled blonde mop.

"That blissful flower child never went away...
She just hoped you'd eventually come back and play."
She smiles at me in the most curious way --
"Hang on to me this time; don't let it get away."

You can mask your roots a number of ways
But sooner or later they'll come back to stay.
Let them grow again in the warmth of the light
With your roots exposed you'll know what's right.