Escorted into the room dressed in white starch attire, only
an expectant gaze to identify me from the rest.
Taking my seat, a few adjustments for a better view, but
obscured by dark green surgical sheets.
Holding hands both sticky with apprehension and fear, over
the moment that seemed would never arrive.
Encouraging words from the surgeon, before
his strong steady hands go to work.
The scalpel’s cutting edge gliding over taut skin, penetrating; orders given, instruments changing hands swiftly.
Large blue sparkling eyes.
On the white tiled wall a clock,
the time eternally inscribed – 1:12pm.