Boring People in Hospital Treatment Waiting Rooms

I prefer silence, quiet reflection
Interrupted only by the passing purposeful pace of a nurses flat shoe
Or the quiet invocation that it is “time to come through”

Where a book may be read, a trusty tome
Or ones thoughts collected
Over no more than hushed tones.

Unfortunately Mr McGill did not see it that way
As his voice boomed out the levels of his PSA
Statins he declared are certainly most dangerous
And that although he knew he shouldn’t, he always liked to make a fuss
You will be pleased to learn that as I thought about the name McGill
I didn’t have the heart to try rhyming it with just ill
It seemed too obvious , too pat, too trite
But the more I think about him I really just might.

He liked broccoli and cabbage , but definitely not onions
And was certainly not keen on other people’s opinions
His Dad’s birthday is on Friday, but there will be no to-ing and fro-ing
Although he is 86 he can’t be bothered going
Friday for him is simply no good you see
But at the weekend they might take him along to a carvery
Which is good because you can get potatoes veg and peas
Then the nurse saved us with “Mr McGill this way please”
But our joy turned to grief as she stopped to let him know
“Yes I’ve checked come back at the same time tomorrow

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s