If I can’t be a poet I’ll be a poem instead

foto©robcullen01032021

After a wait, the locked ward door opens,

I sit in the empty waiting room,

an orange with no reason, sits in the middle of a table,

black, blue, orange, yellow plastic chairs,

stare at one another in the electric glare,

the stopped wall clock doesn’t move.

….

robcullen©01032021

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