Red Nails

She paints her nails red
slowly, methodically, with purpose.
I pretend to read my newspaper
watching her closely over the top of the pages.
Her features are refined;
no lines and big azure blue eyes.
Traffic rolls by outside and children play
relishing the sun in the middle of the day.
I pretend today is just an ordinary day
but in an hour or two I'll be on my way
and she, with painted nails
will walk the streets from whence she came.

poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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