My Counselling Placement...a poem

My alarm goes off
and I get out of bed
With thoughts of counselling
there in my head.

I shower and dress
and have a good meal
Then I get on the train--
at £1.10 it's a steal!

I show up on time
and I've never been late
I sit in the room
And I wait...and I wait.

My clients turn up
(well, sometimes they do)
I listen and help,
(well, at least I try to.)

I do what I can.
The commitment is big.
I'm here of my will--
it's not a paid gig!

This woman who makes
the appointments for me,
She must not know
that I'm working for free!

Extra appointments
made without consultation?!
I want to address her with
an obscene exclamation.

"Oh, you made an appointment
for someone at three?
You made it last week,
without asking me?!"

But I don't say much,
I stay rather calm.
I head off to my office
to write this dumb poem.

(I know, I know, 'calm' and 'poem' don't rhyme.)

xo