It's Still Life

The Automatic Queueing System

Busy. Their phone is always busy. I should’ve poured a coffee.

I can almost count the leaves falling. Already, it’s the end…

You are number five in the queue.

…of August, and the nights are colder. I smell the scent of wood smoke passing through the neighbourhood …

You are number four in the queue.

…and the oak tree once fluid green is turning yellow, soon desiccated, crumbled and brown, the leaves will drop and clatter and blow in through the open kitchen door.

You are number three in the queue.

There is a bitter sweet scent of white wax in here. Can’t place it really. And I wait for news…

You are number two in the queue.

…wait for test results. Wait for bones to creak and joints to crunch. Wait for falling leaves, to remind me…

You are next in the queue.

…of days I forgot to count, of days I’m afraid I will never be able to change .

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For Ragtag Daily Prompt “queue”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023.