My Pedicure

Written by: HOLLY MOORE

I make the appointment all excited
for my feet look like my dads, uninviting.

I anxiously wait until the day of my arrival,
expecting...who-ha’s...claps...and grins.

None of this sort grabs me, instead it is
pick out color...pick out color...and then she turns with chagrin.

That is okay...I am still excited...I try to crawl into the big chair,
but I am only five feet, and she’s practically shoveling me in.

I have on a dress you know...hello...can I have towel?
Oh my gosh, the sky is falling...I did not pick out my color!

And, so we begin, she really is my friend.
This is my favorite place to be, and I love her best of all.

But, she turns on the water, and oh...I want to smack her.
My feet are going to ignite from the heat!

I just want to sit here; I do not want the chair to go off like a rocket,
massaging every ounce of my being, things falling out of my pocket.

I came here to relax, my feet are burning, and my voice is quivering.
Good gosh woman, turn this thing off!

Things finally settle down...we begin to talk around.
How’s your daughter...How is your mother?...Can I have some rice from the kitchen?

She laughs at me...I smile at her...
Oh, no, I forgot to pick out my color!

Her husband comes by.
I say...sure, I will give it a try!

I admire my jellybean toes and pay her the dough.
We hug, she laughs at me, and tells me luv ya!

"Humor Me" Contest

©Holly P. Moore
   October 2012