The Waiting Room Poem by James Hart

Motionless, expressionless
As if waiting to be aroused
They sit in plastic chairs
Round the walls of
The Waiting Room;
Its name poses the question
Who is doing the waiting,
The patients or the room?
Magazines strewn
All over the seats
Waiting to be read
Music blaring
From the radio
Waiting to be listened to
Me getting impatient
Waiting for the nurse
To come and call my name
How are you?
Asked one man to another.
Well, what does he expect?
After all he is at the doctor’s!
Rather a stupid question methinks.
And the wait drags on…
“They also serve
Who only sit and wait…”