You’ve sat beside one in a surgery waiting room
As if in that air there was not enough gloom
You turn to make friendly conversation – then
They’ll begin to tell you about bunions,
blood pressure, arthritic pain, medication
That and all those other complications
You cast your eyes to the heavens, they ask
Are you in pain, scrutinising your face
Just as you are about to respond
There is a name call, they excuse themselves
You listen, patiently waiting for the quietening silence.
(c)Poetry from The ManShed
27/08/19
Hope this is fiction Chris and you’re A okay.
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Thanks for your concern Fransi I’m fine, a dressed up truth of a conversation I was sitting close by to in a doctors waiting room.
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Glad you’re fine Chris.
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And you also.
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Thank you!
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