Twas a hot sorta day and the building felt cool
The writer of dates lurked aloft on her stool
With a bouquet of flowers and a bowl full of sweets
The bait of enticement while you wait on the seats
But the name will be called and the dread and the fear
Of the physiotherapist who waits in the rear
Can I smell Patchouli?
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Thanks for commenting. You lovable weirdo