They glance at each other

Silently, they appraise each other

None is in the mood to talk

Each lost in his own thoughts.

They sit, each tick of the clock

Multiplying the beat of their heart

Nobody knows what to expect

Each afraid of what they would hear.

The door opens slightly

They glance in, trying to get a glimpse

They can’t read his expression

They feel like sheep to the slaughter.

The first goes in

She looks back for reassurance

There is none

Her legs wobble.

The door is shut

They return to the worn magazines.

Their minds unable to see the pictures

The tension is palpable.

It seems an eternity

She finally re-appears

No smile…

They all sigh.

Image courtesy

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  1. Thanks Anna, for that lovely joke. I do apologise for the layout changes. I've had some issues lately as I've been blogging via mobile phone. I'm now able to use my old internet carrier.

    I guess I never really picked a specialty to base my poem on, but after your comment, I have chosen a HIV screening clinic. Hope it works 🙂

  2. I guess silence is dependant on which waiting room of which speciality… some of the less worrying waiting rooms can be quite chirpy.

    Friendly consultants who put you at your ease also make the wait less worrisome.

    As the doctor completed an examination of the patient, he said, "I can't find a cause for your complaint. Frankly, I think it's due to drinking." "In that case," said the patient, "I'll come back when you're sober" :o]

    Anna :o]

    PS your blog layout keeps changing…

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