Petits pieds

It doesn’t matter where I am.
It doesn’t matter what my day has brought – sunshine, smiles or tears.
It doesn’t matter what people think.
It doesn’t matter if I made a difference or not.
It doesn’t matter what the future holds; nor whether or not it frightens me.

When little feet are nestled, cwtched, scrunched, buried and softly, softly pushed into my belly, I am home. And it’s my very favourite place to be.

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