NaPoWriMo 18: Tick Tock

It took a little while for me to overcome my opposition to this prompt. I knew I didn't want to use the words themselves in the poem - too clunky. So that left the concept of time more generally. Then it occurred to me to write about the sound. This poem grew from there.

Waiting
Sitting here she can
hear his watch ticking,
the hush in this room
so intense that small
mechanical sounds
become theme songs.
The buzz of the florescent
light overhead, the
whine of the computer
at the reception desk.

He is flicking through
a magazine with
Brad and Jennifer on
the cover and pages
torn out where recipes
and the crossword have
been souvenired.
She finds herself staring
at an old scrapbook filled
with images from old
greeting cards cut out
and stuck to the pages.

They are waiting for the
man with the white coat
to tell them life can
return to normal,
that they can reclaim
the medical diagnosis
formerly known as their
son and climb into
their Toyota Starlet to
go back home where
tea comes from a
kettle instead of a
dispensing machine
and background music
comes in the form of
a child’s voice.