Click-clack. Click clack.

Thundering sounds of  heels on hardwood.

Click-clack. Click-clack.

Like a play-by-play announcing my progress to the chair.

Click-clack. Click clack.

The chair by the woman. The only chair. The chair over there.

Click-clack. Click clack.

Click-clack. Click-clack.

Click.

 Clack.

Stop.

Sit.

 

Sit by a stranger.

Sit in the room.

Where we both wait for a strange doctor,

 Stranger to the others bloom.

 

Two souls, two hearts, two minds, two spirits,

Two souls in the room.

Alone in their bloom .

And there, in the room of wait, I feel it.

 

Fear.

 

Fear, yes fear, that companion of bloom.

Fear of rejection, offence, failure and doom.

Fear that keeps two people alone in one room.

 

You see I could turn, I could say hello,

But fear tells me different.

It whispers. It seethes

 

It tells me the things that I already know.

This lady and I, the two blooms in two chairs,

We are likely the same as two rocks and two pears.

 

Fear.

Fear.

 

But, but this lady is so near.

If I could but only just reach out and touch.

If only my bloom would not make her blush.

You see in the bloom, alone in the chair,

Is a person who longs to be known and to care.

 

You see fear I hear you,

I know you too well.

But aren’t you the devil that confines us to hell?

You’re lies and your antics, they keep us alone,

While blooms lie in waiting, just aching to be known.

 

You know fear I’ve had it.

To hell with your tricks.

This lady and I may be different,

But blooms are worth the risk.

 

And so I turn my head with a start,

To the lady beside me, in the chair with the bloom,

In the delicate silence of this waiting room.

 

Then in a moment, a blink, a dart,

“Mrs. Charsleton” A nurse with a chart.

 

The lady beside me rises up with her bloom.

Click-clack. Click-clack.

 Her heels on the hardwood.

Click-clack. Click-clack.

Like a play-by-play announcing her progress out of the room.

Click-clack. Click-clack.

Click-clack. Click-clack.

Click.

Swoosh.

Boom.

 

The door shuts behind her and her bloom.

The stranger has left the waiting room.

 

And there I sit, where once two sat.

In the chair, in the room,

All alone with my bloom.

No different now. No different then.

The fear of click-clacks has left me dead.