The row of empty faces <br />stared - or thumbed <br />well worn Women’s Weekly’s <br />with the idle curiosity <br />of daytime television viewers. <br /> <br />The waiting room was cold, <br />much too cold <br />for such a blistering summer’s day. <br />I sat well away <br />from the air conditioner. <br /> <br />A little Indian boy <br />in smart red jumper <br />played with the toys on the floor. <br />He looked about four. <br /> <br />After several minutes or more, <br />he stood before me <br />smiling shyly: <br />'Hello.' <br />‘Hello’ I replied. <br /> <br />The little boy greeted <br />each patient in turn, <br />offering his hand politely <br />and beaming his big brown eyes. <br /> <br />There was a general stir <br />(of recognition perhaps?) <br />and a roomful of strangers <br />became friends.<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/little-indian-boy/
