Monday, June 6, 2011

Pudding Time ( A poem 08/20/2009)




He waits
Sitting at the table
Legs shaking in anticipation
Staring at his antique Stop watch
As it dangles from its golden chain
His eyes slowly scanning the room
As the others take their appointed seats
Anxious stares
He glances at his watch again
Time moves so slowly here
His hands begin tremble
The wait is killing him
Slowly but surely killing him
Each second seems like a thousand minutes
Again his eyes scan the room
As the stragglers shambles in
"Hurray up now …Your going to miss it"
Again his eyes go to his watch
Its time
Where are they?

Then he sees her
Scratching her way across the floor
With her broken down old walker
And its missing roller
The rusted metal digging into the carpet
Leaving a trail of torn fibers in its wake

He hates her
Despises her
Mrs. Crane
"Hurray up you wrinkled old bat " He Hollers
The Plastic spoon shaking in his hand
After what seems like an eternity
They finally sit her down
It’s 3:18
Three minutes late
Here it comes now
The excitement overwhelms him
Drool drips out of the corner of his mouth
He is ready
All his worries gone for the moment
It’s Pudding time at the old folks home
BAC 08/20/2009

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