• I sit in a little room,
    With dirty walls and scuffed floors.
    The doctor isn't here yet
    So I think alone and nervously.
    My father sits beside me
    In a chair a little ways away,
    He's more scared than I.
    I hope he doesn't cry.

    Quietly the doctor walks in
    sits on a chair with computer in his lap.
    Doesn't he know that's bad for you?
    Oh well, I don't say anything.
    He smiles at least,
    then it can't be bad.
    I know it just by sight.

    My stomach churns,
    The tension shifts with protest.
    No longer afraid
    But not reassured.
    Now I can only wait,
    Hoping it won't come again.