Grandma would smack my hand
Gently
She meant well and I'd feel guilty
Lessons she'd learned passed to me
The lore solidified this importance
A compromise? To the salon!
I'd pick at my nail polish
A compromise from the worst?
Chipping and scraping them bare
Until they were ugly
Back to boy hands
Tomorrow could be life changing
Yet I'd face it without rest
Will or would?
Fine, I'll stop picking.