She's tired from the night before,
Sprints out the door, uncombed hair flying.
She'll laugh 'til the tears run down her face--
Her mascara runs because she's crying.
There's blood on the back of her Bandolinos,
She knows she shouldn't shave so fast.
There's a band aid on the top of her left big toe--
She stoved it running barefoot in the past.
There's a bruise on her elbow and a scrape on her knee;
He's already told her "no volleyball next week,"
And her shirt's completely soaked, right though
From trying to fix the sink's slight leak.
She can't help getting dirty when she gardens:
There's dirt on her right cheek and nose,
Kissing her forehead, the smudge he pardons;
He just smiles 'cause he knows how it goes.
Her hair's always down but sometimes back--
When she works, she needs it pinned.
She blew her bangs out of her face,
He softly snickered and broadly grinned.
She's too short for the jeans she wears:
The hems are torn and tattered,
But he thinks it's fine; he doesn't care--
He loves her, it doesn't matter.
He just can't wait to "geekify" her;
And she can't wait to soak it in.
And though she's nervous she'll mess up,
She still can't wait to begin.
Her heart's desire's to cook for him
(She always wonders if he ate)
So since she thinks that he's too thin,
She'll try to "make him gain some weight."
Even though she's no size four
Nor have the perfect skin,
He loves her just the way she is--
Looks matter not to him.
