I don't love myself,
not my typical length hair,
my thin pale lips,
not my bitten down fingernails.
I don't love my body,
my long but bulky legs,
or my largely carved nose,
the way my feet stand crooked.
I wish I loved what I see in the mirror,
but I don't, and that's okay,
I'm working on it.
What I truly love about myself,
is the way I think of rain,
the sad Earth making its sorrows known.
The way I know the frogs will dance,
maybe a waltz with Mrs. Frog,
the way the desert only longs for it,
how my old rainboots start to smile.
The way I love when it rains,
when it snows,
when a stranger walks in the dark,
how I wonder about life,
that's what I love most about myself,
the way my mind wanders.