The Waiting Room…sometimes
We park our cars and take that walk,
Not always in the mood for talk.
We stand in line and wait our turn.
As we check in, sometimes we learn.
We scan the room where people wait.
The silence there; the aire of fate.
The tired ones with little left.
We know they know–and feel bereft.
Brave daughters, with beloved Moms,
wish they could wheel them out of harm.
Brave husbands, with their fragile wives,
have loved together all their lives.
Some will live to see more seasons.
Some will die, for many reasons.
We have no claim on our tomorrow,
nor have a year that Dad can borrow.
The waiting room, a quiet place.
We sit and hope and pray
-Arnie McConnell fall, 2013