THE WAITING ROOM
Ames K. Swartsfager
Waiting changes time,
Or so it seems,
When waiting for the good,
Hours seem to slowly stream
For ever building anxiety
Forever nightmares which make us pant.
The pain of waiting for things we want
For things we want, and can't
Conceive of having again.
Such a sorry specimen, I sigh
"I can't wait!" the child cries.
The hours seem to magnify.
When waiting for the bad
It arrives much too soon
The bad revolves in the mind
To find nothing would be a boon
Watching the door is no help
The chair is hard, it urges me leave
Come back again some other day.
Some other day, news to receive
Or perhaps he might even delay
And send a letter or E-mail.
Then time can stretch or shrink all it wants
While I relax with a jug of ale.
The time is now, I can not wait
No more can I delay
The plot is done, actors ready
Now's the time to start the play
No more waiting, no procrastination.
The curtain opens, now consternation
The heart pumps faster, blood pressure rises
As I wait with great expectation.
The door opens, I'm beckoned within
To receive the news bad or good
The story's told in the Doctor's grin.