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.
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 🙂
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…