IN THE BOWELS OF THE HOMO SAPIEN...

Through the pin drop silence,
Incessant beeps were being heard from bedside monitor machines,
The operating lamp above strongly illuminating the room with its powerful beams,
Air conditioners working tirelessly to ventilate the windowless room.

A couple of surgeons seen round a bed,
An IV drip on a frame dangling above their heads,
Tactically severing and suturing,
With cold steel in their hands,
Their acute vision invariably alert,
And perfectly honed manus in action.

On the patient they worked,
Doing their best to restore the dignity of man,
To the initial constitution and psyche,
In the bowels of the Homo sapien...

The Plain Stylus, 

© KAYODE AYOMIDE TIMILEHIN