Waiting

Four older folks 
sitting on the row
of chairs along from me 
looking like they’d love
a nice cuppa but might
struggle walking round 
the corner to the main 
waiting room to get it.
So

I offer and they order.
Two want coffee, 
both with milk, 
one with sugar.
The third one wants
Nothing thanks, love.
The fourth opens out
his hand. He wants to give a 
pound.

“It’s cheap coffee, this
And I can’t taste the sugar.”
“Well I saw her put it in.
I brought a jar of nice
coffee with me just
in case you get admitted.”
“What did you do that for?”
“I just thought you’d like it.”
“Oh.”

“How many in front of us now?” 
“Three, I think, or four. 
Really, I’m not sure.”
“Is anyone in that toilet?”
“Don’t know. You can’t 
tell, but I’ve not seen 
anyone going in.”
“We’ve been waiting longer than
him.”

“At least the seats are softer
And it’s warmer than 
the doctor’s. Mustn’t grumble.”
Passing time
listening in
drinking my choice
of hot beverage
from the volunteers’ trolley.

“You’ll want a decent cup 
of coffee after this.”