THE WAITING ROOM

By

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.

                                    -30-