We’re waiting–waiting and waiting

First out in the doctor’s lobby

Now in our appointed room

You’re dressed in the drafty, paper uniform

Sitting on the end of the exam table

Feet dangling childlike not meeting the stool

I sit in the lone chair against the wall

Nurse takes your vitals–doctor should be just a few

Nothing to look at–just four blank walls

We’ve been in here before–nothing interesting at all

We make chit-chat–we talk about family

Then take on TV and movies we’ve seen

We’re waiting–waiting and waiting

You start to get antsy; your back starts to ache

Your face has that annoyed look, with a grimace and pout

Irritation in your voice says you’re now aggravated

What’s keeping that doctor!?–you grumble aloud

The nurse pops her head in

It shouldn’t be much longer

You ask to lie down–you can’t sit any more

Obliging nurse asks if the backrest will do

You’re relieved and pleased to have the support

Your scowling face softens letting  go of your frown

We’re waiting–waiting and waiting