Anything but Crying

This poem is about an incident that happened one time on a car ride home. I had been crying and my little brother James, who was nine at the time, and sitting in the front seat ahead of me, turned around and asked me if I was crying. Trying to hide the fact that I was indeed crying I said no, because I didn't want to explain why or how I was upset and I thought how terrible it was that my little brother had to see me cry. When I was younger, I hated seeing people crying and upset and it always bothered me (especially with family members) and I was afraid to make him uncomfortable or bother him in any way. He believed me, as it seemed, because he simply turned around outwardly satisfied, and as he did, it began to rain. It was a very emotional moment and very eye opening to me. I thought I'd share.