The Waiting Room

She waits her turn
flipping through
Glamour Magazine

Glancing up at
the clock above
the fake plant

She notes that
only five minutes
have passed

Hearing laughter
coming from
the TV

She tosses the
magazine on
the floor

And pulls her
chair closer
hoping

That the
funny ones
coax a smile

Sixty-three
minutes pass
unnoticed

She stares
at the screen
transfixed

No longer
caring about
her car

Prompt: Take a favorite line or image from an earlier poem
this month and re-work it into a new poem.

(See Tressa)

Photo:  Ali Brohi

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