Poetry Note: A reflection on a moment observed in a hospital corridor.

Blue crowds the room,
a restless buzz of voices,
and the rich aroma escapes
every time the door swings open.

It wasn’t a lounge space, not really,
the door reads “Meeting Room”
it was all steam, clinking dishes,
busy conversations over nothing serious.

and the lady with the mop
draws small and big arcs
over the white tiles
hoping not to be seen.

a familiar voice
called to her, from the crowd.
“why now of all days!”

she felt exposed,
grateful yet embarrassed.
one, at least, made her belong
She hurried, making shaky curves.

she nodded, mumbled
“I’ll come, you go”
but her face said,
she would rather be
anywhere else.

She flew in a wink
and the invitation hung there,
perfunctory and cold.