Being right is such a small, fleeting thing. I would rather be loved,
Or unnoticed, than looked up to, respected, and feared. It rained through the night —
Shall I tell you about my wet feet? — about her smile when I came in from the yard?
September 19, 2021
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Categories: New Poems & Pieces
Tags: Admiration, Bare Feet, Barefoot Journal, Certainty, Diaries, Fear, Identity, Journals, Knowledge, Love, Poems, Poetry, Rain, Respect
William Michaelian 