In shadowed halls where waitings dwell,
Brave souls convene, their tales to tell.
With numbers drawn like swords of yore,
They sit and ponder, and anxiously bore.
And lo, a voice, a herald loud,
Calls forth the next from anxious crowd.
The quest for license, a noble prize,
To conquer queues and time’s cruel lies.
O DMV, thou art a test,
Where patience reigns, and trials rest.
But triumph waits, for those who dare,
To brave the lines with muted prayer.