Waiting RoomToes trouble the floor
Already worry worn
I try to read between its lines
But see only uncertainty.
Pale walls and paler faces.
Life mapped out in leaflets.
Here posters proclaim
The gospel of good health
Or warn of darker paths.
I’ve taken mine
And so I sit
Hand in hand with hope
As the clock ticks its way
Through coughs and curses.
A subtle scythe
In a room full of life
Facing fear
Or forgiveness
And the chance
To stalk another day.
I hear my name
And fate takes me away.

© Emma Cooke 2013

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