That You Didn't Know, I Bet.


Bare feet. I'm not bare feet,

but I love bare feet. My bare feet that is.

I love the feeling of my 

left big toe rubbing against the

toe beside it. I call it Toe #2.

However, I don't love the feeling of my

right big toe rubbing against

the toe beside it.

I love the way mud squishes 

between my toes, the way grass tickles

my sole, the way the sun

warms my calluses. I love my bare 

feet because they allow a 

continuum with the earth and myself.


Rain. I'm not rain, but I love rain. I 

love the smell of the wet dirt,

the wet asphalt, the wet brick. Not that

they didn't smell good before,

its just that the rain makes them better,

somehow. I love the feeling of the 

rain on my skin. Its nature's

way of saying, "You need a bath."

I love how the rain makes 

the world reflect on itself; two worlds,

one on top of the other in a 

messy coalition of beauty. 


Skin. I'm not skin, but I love skin. My skin,

that is. I love how warm I am.

It makes people want to hug me tight,

but I don't mind, I love hugs.

I say I don't but I do. I love the clay

underneath my fingernails.

It's not the most attractive thing in the 

world, but I love it. I love

the paint that I'll find in the strangest places.

My skin absorbs it as if it 

were already part of me. I love the freckle

on my right hip. Its lovely and brown.


Baby tooth. I'm not a baby tooth, but

I love a baby tooth. My

baby tooth, that is. It's name is Tiny Tim.

I love the fact that its an adult

tooth, but looks like a baby tooth. It doesn't

touch the teeth on either side of it.

It must want to be alone or else I think it would

snuggle up next to another tooth. I love the noise Tiny

Tim makes when I push my 

tongue beside it and exhale. It's a faint

whistle, just loud enough for 

me to hear it and me alone. 


The sunset. I'm not the sunset, but I love 

the sunset. Not that I have 

anything against the sunrise, its beautiful,

but there's something about 

the sunset that makes me fall in love. I love

its colors. The sunset's colors 

are similar to the changes of the seasons;

the cool blue and refreshing 

yellow catches your eye like the skies of

spring; the subtle pink excites

you like the opportunities of summer; the

orange and red calm your

hysterics like the falling leaves of autumn's

rein; the black of night lulls

you to sleep with the stars mimicking the 

glisten of freshly fallen snow.

I love the promise of a sunset. The promise that

today will end and tomorrow

will begin. 


Who am I? I'm the freedom

of wonderfully dirty bare feet. I'm the

lover of rain's reflection.

I'm the secret admirer of a hug's affections.

I'm the piper of Tiny Tim's tunes.

I'm the observer of every sunset's rainbow.

That you didn't know, I bet.

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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