The Waiting Room

 

For some reason it reminded me of a ticket office

with people queuing, holding papers in clenched fists

Each consulting room had a group waiting outside

There were no windows, a dreary place

The only natural light filtered through frosted glass windows

three large potted palms showed some semblance of natural life

A room of no character, no welcome, few comforts

doors amd lintels painted in a dark dull green

no magazines, newspapers or journals to read

Only large posters on the walls: Stop Smoking

How to clean your teeth, Eat fruit and vegetables

illustrations of decrepit lungs, varicose veins and blistered skin

Despite these warning signs a vending machine

offered sugary drinks, coffee and potato crisps

Officious nurses strode to and fro, serene in their

self importance and adopted air of confidence

Most patients were overweight, some on crutches

Lugubrious faces stared blankly at the floor

Others pensive keeping abreast of their position in the queue

Resigned faces, mostly the elderly, gazed about

anxious glances were exchanged as names were called

Fifty souls there to be healed, cured and receive treatment

all departed with a prescription of hope

No one wanted to be there

they hurried for the door after their turn was over