I was late,
I couldn't wait to see you;
But the former, more believable
A reason why
I was running the rest of the way
To the house.
I almost cried
First when grandma hugged me,
Second when I thought about it,
Third when we crossed the highway
And you did not hold my hand
Not because there was now a traffic light posted there,
Nor because I now wear my hair red and my eyes lined;
But because all three reasons,
You would rather not believe
Before you even hear,
Than look at me again
And know who to believe.