When I was ten years old,

This man with spiky hair

And a red bandana

Just smiled without a care.

 

When he walked in the room,

With his red bandana

My freckled nose crinkled

At his very manner.

 

 

Back then I didn’t get

What he was all about

For who I thought he was

Was wrong, without a doubt.

 

 

His hair wasn't spikey

In a purposeful way,

No, he had been sweating

After dancing all day.

 

 

That bandana he wore?

Was to keep all that sweat

From dripping down his face

And making his shirt wet.

 

This man that I describe

(And try not to offend)

Is who I like to call

My thirty-something best friend

 

Countless days of crying

Or laughing with my friend

So grateful just to have

Him listening to my end.

 

Eight years still and counting,

He stands right at my side

Pushing me to follow

These dreams that I can't hide.

 

Now that I’m moving on

To study far away

I’m grateful for my friend,

I won’t forget the day

 

When I met that strange man

With the spiky weird hair

And the red bandana

Who smiled without a care.