faces

the women
sitting in the waiting
room
are beautiful.
well dressed.
well formed,
polite with smiles
as they browse
the magazines
and sip spring
water
with lemon and ice.
complementary.
in the back,
down a long hall
of white
closed doors
the doctor holds
a needle
in his hand.
one by one, as
their names are
called
they come in to
take away
the years, the worry,
the laughter
from their faces
leaving a fresh canvas
with which to
work on.