Waiting

It is a small, no, smallish room.
The faux wood paneled floor and white-washed walls
Compliment the sepia photos
Figures bounding animals three seconds from bearing teeth
And shredding skin.
Skin melds with the plastic chair covering,
still sweating despite the cold
Wilted slick periodicals with gleaming hungry teeth and wide-eyed children
Air alkaline in flavor antiseptic
The taste of palpable fear or worry perhaps.
Perhaps too much viruscide, ah perhaps.
But we all smile the smile of the tired
Smile the smile
Of the waited
Of the waiting
Of the Reminded.
Smile the smile for what remains.