At the optometrist's

I brought my notebook

and a pen, thinking

I might see something

or other that might

inspire. But it’s only

the eye doctor’s office,

with its all displays

of frames for glasses

and a waiting area 

for people, many

with canes and walkers,

and one elderly lady

managing a toddler,

her grandson, cute

little fellow with blond

curly hair and a loud

voice. A mobile

phone rings, loud 

enough to be heard

in the parking lot,

and we all think

someone doesn’t want

to wear hearing aids.

I come here sometimes,

for my own appointment,

without cane or walker,

yet. Today I’m a driver,

so I just sit and wait and

hope something might

suggest a poem. 

The receptionist loudly

asks if anyone here is

named Timothy, but

no one answers.

 

Photograph by Scott Van Daalen via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Tuesday Readings

 

[at the end] – poem by L.L. Barkat at Every Day Poems.

 

“The Last Warm Saturday,” poem by Jane Greer – Sally Thomas at Poems Ancient and Modern. 

 

Collect – poem by Andrew Roycroft at New Grub Street.