RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Writing In A Nail Parlor
Sitting in a nail parlor, smelling scents of nail polish being applied to women's nails.
Bottles of polish, various colors, standing on shelves waiting to be chosen by a particular person on any given day.
Writing, waiting for a friend's daughter to get her nails finished.
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Comments about this poem (Writing In A Nail Parlor by RoseAnn V. Shawiak )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- BUT TWO MORE, maqsood hasni
- No selfish lien, hasmukh amathalal
- Time to annihilate, hasmukh amathalal
- Still pray for good, hasmukh amathalal
- Creole, Nassy Fesharaki
- Red Earth, Perveiz Ali
- To Refuse Those Nuts (Decisions Made To .., Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Wash away, Jessica Dehn
- The Thrill Has Gone, Robert Melliard
- सच बात है यही। SACH BAAT, hasmukh amathalal