Arrived more than ten minutes later than me!
In hospitals, hanging round's what people do...
But from here, looks like somebody's jumping the queue.
If I dared, I would ask but there seems little use:
They'd just make up a reason, some half-baked excuse,
Like "There's lots of rooms running, and some move through faster."
Why is waiting, for me, such a total disaster?
Of the lines in a bank, why do I choose to join
The one where they're counting a suitcase of coin?
As for airports, they're guaranteed sources of stress:
Approaching the check-in, one tries to assess
Which passenger's passport is just out of date?
Whose luggage will be half an ounce overweight?
I opt and I know as I shuffle along
That, despite all that care, my decision was wrong.
So here, in this clinic, there's surely no doubt
Mine's the room no one goes in - or never comes out.
I could do with the loo or, for certain, I'll burst
But can't leave, in case someone goes sneaking in first.
Those magazines all look so dog-eared and dated,
Thumbed by those who, before me, have sat here and waited;
The recipes torn out, e'en now being cooked
By the bored, the frustrated...the great overlooked.
Still, there's one on the pile and it seems fairly new.
I'll just have a quick glance: nothing better to do......
Drat! They're calling my name! Now I'll never discover
If Sue stayed at home, or eloped with her lover!
