There are now only ten days left in our poetic journey through the alphabet, and what a journey it's been. The prompt for Day #17 is: queue. This word can mean a braid of hair hanging down the back, a file or a line of people waiting for something, or (for our beloved computer geeks) an organized sequence of data or messages. How does "queue" infuse your muse? Below is my lyrical attempt.
INTO A QUEUE
A sale would start in minutes.
For shoppers old and new,
like pilgrims on a sacred quest,
anticipation grew.
Before the doors were opened,
a booming voice rolled through:
“Settle down, wait your turn,
and form into a queue.”
A ticket window sign said “closed”
and all who stood there knew
that when the tickets went on sale,
there'd be a ballyhoo.
A giant man approached the crowd
his job was to subdue:
“Settle down, wait your turn,
and form into a queue.”
An unexpected tragedy
brought death to quite a few.
The angry mob outside the Gates
could not believe it true.
But trying to restore control,
St. Peter’s whistle blew:
“Settle down, wait your turn,
and form into a queue.”