THE SURGEON
By Billie Cullimore

He stands above you with a scalpel in his hand.
He knows where to start,
He has a plan.

You lay on the table, everything is in place,
With that stupid oxygen mask on your face.

Hands and feet strapped tight.
Soon you've lost all desire to fight.

They've marked the spot where
he's going to cut.

Your last thought is,
"Don't let him hiccup."

You've trusted your life to this young man.
Seems about the age of your grandson.

It took years of study, strength and toil,
And hours burning the :Midnight oil."

God in his wisdom, choose this son.
To reign among the Special ones.

So you put your faith in this
young man.

Knowing that Gods Spirit,guides
the Surgeons hand.