Waiting At The Doctor’s
Seven already in the queue, though we got
there early
Gathered in the darkness and the early
evening fog
Forced to stand upon the pathway flags and
stamp our feet
Muffled up in jumpers, gloves and coat, scarf
and hat
My barking cough and wheezing chest
Not helped by the dampness in the air
There’s
a lot of it about at the minute
Says one local busybody
Winter’s
already setting in, going to be a hard one
Offers another weather-watcher
Everyone hoping that the Witch will open
early
And take a little pity on us poor souls locked
outside
But it’s bang on six o’clock when the bolt at
last slides back
And the key is finally turned within the hefty
lock
The feeble outside light grudgingly
illuminated
As if we’re all there under sufferance
Before we trundle inside, grateful for the
meagre warmth
To see the fire’s only just been lit
And smoulders fitfully in the grate
Struggling to gain some purchase
On the paltry lumps of coal
Then forced to queue again before the desk
To let the Witch write down our names and
ages
So the doctor will see us all in order
Before sitting down on hardened chairs and
benches
No concessions to comfort
In the stuffy, gloomy room of illnesses
Cheerless and charmless
The naked lightbulb adding to the misery
To wait the doctor’s eventual arrival
Among the coughing and the sneezing
Then the late arrivals edging through the
door
Their eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise
At the over-crowded waiting room
Then turned away until tomorrow
Because the list’s already full
Followed out by the smirks of those who
will be seen tonight
Then the doctor quickly sweeping in, his
coat undone
His bag loose-handled, trailing in his wake
A worried frown upon his face
Hurried past the patients, into his
consulting room
The door briefly closed for him to catch
his breath
The Witch gathering up the patients’ files
And, privileged, squeezing herself inside
For the briefest conversation
Before the first name is shouted out
And the patient shambles forward
Leaving the rest of us to speculate upon his
likely ailment
Then to shuffle up one place
And to keep an eye upon the others
To check that no-one gets to jump the queue
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