Magazine in hand
I wait in the chair.
Looking around
Extremely aware.
The walls and the ceiling
Uninteresting and bare.
Instruments and tools
Hi-tech and rare
Bottles and potions
And lenses all there.
Unfamiliar but normal
The Optometrists lair.
I sit and I wait
And ruffle my hair.
I've been here so long
I feel I've turned grayer.
The door finally opens
And I jerk aware.
The exam passes quickly
In answer to prayer.
I order my glasses
And even a spare.
The bill goes to hubby
For he is the payer.
I rush to the door
Thinking "I'm outta here"!
But they get the last word
"We'll see you next year".