The chairs are neatly arranged
Soft music fills the gaps
Of scattered conversations
That come and go like the people

I take my seat
I’ve been here before
I know the patterns
Repeating on the wallpaper

Across from the window I sit
I like to see the view
Of life on the street
Far from this waiting room

I enjoy the familiar faces
Pleasantries are exchanged
He or she sits, ponders
And leaves through a door

I might read or write
Or shut my eyes and sleep
I awake and different seats
With new faces are taken

The door is large
And freshly painted
As it opens, the light
Spills into this room

And the people come and go
Some days I count them
Some days I ignore
But they pass me by

The room could be cold
A chill cuts me deep
I always bring my sweater
Let’s me pretend I’m warm

I recall the day
The invitation came
“Come with me through the door”
Maybe it was just a song

Maybe it was a friend
Maybe it was a stranger
I gave a wise smile
And looked out the window

Another day dawns in the waiting room
The room fills quickly
As the morning passes
I am there but strangely distant

I move from seat to seat
A cushion is torn
Another is frayed
I wait.