Meeting Old Ghosts

I slowly descend the old stairs,
dirty and in need of a fresh coat of paint
to the basement of the building.

The same stairs
that I descended
forty years ago with my mother,
we inch down now,
creeping
for self protection.

I see the same frown
of disapproval on the
face of a different
doctor of dentistry,
the distrust hanging in the air between us
as it did on the face of the other,
now ghostly doctor
who seems to still inhabit the same room.

Finally finished,
we worm our way out of the cramped office,
relieved to have
escaped
to return another day.