Waiting Room

Mid-January waiting
for a yellow song of sunshine,
for a little light,
for forsythia blooms of blessings
for my love to get out of surgery

A woman in coveralls
peppered in yellow paint
waits for the hallway elevator;
it opens to spill a sunburst of laughter
then little light blessings of, “Have a good day!”
as three transported strangers
emerge and part ways

Yellow-spattered cheer
silently disappears
behind the veil of grey doors

I wait for forsythia blooms

Interestingly, the shrub, forsythia, was named in honor of William Forsyth (1737-1804), a Scottish horticulturalist who brought the shrub from China. His family name is from Gaelic “Fearsithe” which means “man of peace.” The forsythia shrub is often associated with early spring.

This poem was composed after reading “Forsythia” by Barbara Crooker and “Last Scraps of Color in Missouri” by Karen Craigo, both in The Path to Kindness while in a waiting room yesterday morning.

Photo from Pixabay


25 thoughts on “Waiting Room

  1. I saw an earlier post of yellow flowers and thought of how I was craving yellow, and then came to your post. Yellow commands a moment of joy even in the midst of worry. Hope all is well.

    Liked by 1 person

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