Poem: ‘The Doctor’s Waiting Room’

I’m waiting here with boredom drear

For an appointment with the doc

He hasn’t buzzed in quite awhile

All I do is look at the clock

The hands roll round to half past three

My feet are stuck to the floor

There’s a pregnant woman who’ll soon give birth

Before the clock strikes four

 

A baby cries with watery eyes

His tortured lungs fit to burst

“Is there someone here for blood?”

Enquires a long-suffering nurse.

“The doctor’s out on call,” she says

“You will have to wait your turn.”

A young lady holds up a bandaged arm

“But I’ve got a nasty burn.”

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