The 8th floor - 5 PM

LauraAnn

One by one, the masses align and gather.
One by one, the dinner trays stream forth from the bowels of a large metal cabinet.

 

The hungry eagerly await their food.
The food that will come under much scrutiny
The food that will ultimately elicit much outraged complaint



One by one, they take their seats.
Stranger sits next to stranger, 
Friend next to friend, 
Or occasionally just one who finds her own company sufficient.

 

Chicken, salt, and coffee are fervently auctioned off.
Finally, each resigned to the food on their tray, the eating quietly ensues.
After the last bite of red Jello (or should I say Raspberry Bavarian) is gone,
plastic utensils are cast aside.

 

Some linger to talk, but most quickly depart to their rooms down the hall.
And the dinner trays, once again, one by one, find a home within the metal cabinet.

  • Author: LauraAnn (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 21st, 2015 10:36
  • Comment from author about the poem: DInnertime on a psych ward.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 6
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Comments1

  • Ken

    Nice. Great job!



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