I sit thinking of swans

Pale white feathers like the color of pearls

resting on transparent water

weightless and steady

calm.

Beethoven interrupts my thoughts

letting my solitude disperse.

Blase thoughts fill my mind.

strange how impatience

won through so much inhuman calm.

I wait.

A stained fan drones on.

It's so monotonous the room could be in flight.

I stare at a mirror seeing nothing

but the reflection of a pale barred window.

a faint antiseptic smell breaks my silence

for we who wait do not converse.

we who wait do not even look.

The t.v. blares some inane show

eyes vacant of any direction,

veiled prayer the television.

the hourglass still full

the clock still ticking,

I close my eyes

and think of swans.