Written to the prompt Q is for Queue
Tickets, Please
The stadium holds 64,000;
Two tickets was all I desired
To go see my favourite musician
For the last time before he retired.
I desperately wanted those tickets;
I’ve been a fan many long years.
I knew that if I couldn’t get them
I’d most likely end up in tears.
There was only one way to get tickets:
You just had to queue up online;
The number of people ahead of you now
Twenty thousand six hundred and nine.
Who knew how long I’d have to queue up?
I couldn’t just sit there all day,
So in between checking my laptop
I got some housework out the way.
I washed up and tidied the kitchen,
Wiped the cupboards and then scrubbed the floor;
The number of people ahead of you now
Fourteen thousand eight hundred and four
Dear customer, do not press refresh
Or you’ll go to the back of the queue.
So I just had to find something else
For my jittery fingers to do.
I put up a shelf in the bathroom,
It fell down so I did it again;
The number of people ahead of you now
Nine thousand three hundred and ten
I mowed the lawn and washed the windows –
I’ll admit, they were long overdue;
The number of people ahead of you now
Five thousand one hundred and two
I hoovered and dusted and polished,
Repainted the wooden back gate;
The number of people ahead of you now
Three thousand four hundred and eight
I made apple crumble and custard,
Washed the car, had a bath, ate my tea;
The number of people ahead of you now
Seven hundred and seventy-three.
The number was dropping quite quickly –
I daren’t take my eyes from the screen.
Through the hundreds, the eighties, the fifties,
The twenties, then number sixteen!
I watched as it went ever downwards…
Here we go – six five four three two one –
Hurray! I was in – I could buy now,
But sadly all tickets had gone
Except for the very expensive
(Starting price over £400 each!)
VIP hospitality seating.
Are you mad? That’s way out of my reach.
I realised then I’d not see him,
And as teardrops started to glisten
I decided I’d go to the stadium
And stand right outside and just listen.
© Carol Carman 2024
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