A perfect square of sunshine and a mop swirls over

Glistening floor tiles embarrass my well-worn soles

You've seen all this before,

blue buckets and yellow cones punctuate your progress.

This is not your extraordinary.

Paper curtains carefully lifted and draped

Different tired eyes and tears in oversized chairs, but the pattern's the same

A change of detail in a familiar tableau.

Scrubbing down surfaces following all procedures

scrupulous sanitizing of this artificial womb.

For me every movement, detail, noise

a revelation

Fearful, fascinating, unreal

Hands gripping arm wrests

Resisting impulses to tear the mop from your hands and sing your praise loudly

You have all saved me, my son, my soul, my heart

My sanity, my belief, my strength

On an early today and the sterilizing room's a mess

Your trolley rolls on

a soft-close exit from this stage

and I am left in the depths of my thoughts

to stare at the child I cannot hold

and wonder.