Her ‘can-I-speak-to-the-manager’ haircut

And gossipy tone,

Made even solitary patients

Feel less alone.


There were four people

In the waiting room.

Sometimes the quiet feels like

Awaiting your tomb.


The receptionist was running all over the place,

She implied the Dr’s organisation was a disgrace.

She spoke aloud with a Northern twang

And rolled her eyes when the phone rang.


“I’m here on overtime,” she said.

“Usually, now, I’d still be in bed.”

But she didn’t seem angry or mad,

The receptionist just looked a little bit sad.


My mother wasn’t meant to attend to me

Due to social distancing policy.

But because she’s a nurse, we quickly got seen:

“If anyone asks, we’ll just say you’re fifteen.”


I got my bloods done and so we waited.

The receptionist told us of a friend who hated

Anyone speaking aloud to themselves,

Though it’s as natural as stacking files on shelves.


She unapologetically admitted to us,

That she didn’t really see the fuss.

“I talk to myself when I do the ironing.”

And for some reason, to me, that was really inspiring.