ICU: First Meeting
Wash hands
Step over the red line
Irish gentleman
Stripped of dignity and clothes
"No stroke" I say
Small smile
Something else entirely
The tears collect
I dab his ruddy cheeks softly
Please tell my sons
"Surgery tomorrow" I say
No smile, tears again
Tell me now, I need to know
And so I sit and we talk
Holding hands
Nice poem/ post.
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