These visits are
by now routine -
on entering
the lion's den,
expect a smile
and beckoning wave
to take a seat.
Obediently, you sit
and start to contemplate
time's passage.
Words fail, as always,
to express
the visit's
raison d'etre.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I certainly relate to the 'time's passage' part of going to the doctor, waiting waiting waiting in the waiting room and then waiting waiting waiting in the examination room - more than enough time to contemplate as many raison d'etres as you want to.