Sunday, January 27, 2013

The Checkout Line

I stand expectantly
In the checkout line
Waiting for my turn to come;
Biding my time. 

Many others have gone ahead of me
They waited for their turns.
I understand their places in front
They previously had earned. 

But some have come from behind
And pushed me aside.
The jumped the line ahead of me
My good manners they did deride. 

I wonder should I join them,
Taking others’ places?
Ignoring their positions?
Ignoring their pained, hurt faces? 

I still hold my place
Respecting others’ stations.
I accept my circumstance
But I’ve become impatient. 
 
My legs are weak, my feat are numb
My spot in line has not moved.
I've worked so hard, I've waited long
But my place has not improved.

I worry that when I get to the front,
Where the shelves were once so plenty
My turn will come and I will find
The shelves are all now empty.
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