The Waiting Room:
A Poem By Pete Marshall
I sat within a crowded room
awash with sounds of Monday gloom
and watched the clock
and wished each hand
would reach on down
and strike the damned.
People stared and others yawned
the clock would tick for those unborn
and watch the rain
on sun soaked streets
A rainbows arch
was incomplete.
A handkerchief would catch a sneeze
A bulbous face, a heavy wheeze
and death would sit
beside my chair
texting friends
polluting air.
City gent would read the news
as others read back dated views
the door burst forth
the silence wrenched
kids poured in
with clothes all drenched.
Eyes would stare but look straight down
coughs were heard and others frowned
then right behind
A mermaid swam
hushing kids
and pushing pram.
And through my aches my manners gave
I smiled in warmth and offered shade
she took my seat
her baby screamed
she looked so sad
alone in dreams.
Then as she spoke in softened tones
my name was called, its time to go..
*********
This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, run by One Stop Poetry, a fast growing community for poets & writers of all genres to share their work, express and make friends
image courtesy creative commons flickr http://www.flickr.com/photos/joyoflife/
