Yes, another poem about death! When I first started writing poetry practically every poem I wrote was about popping off in one form or another, but this has the dubious honour of being my favourite. The first stanza is about coming into the hospital, the daffodils still waiting to bloom outside the hospital indicating the time of year, just before spring (new birth), then being wheeled along the corridor, looking up at the lights overhead 'taxiing towards departure' a bit like an airplane about to take off. The single raindrop running down the window over the top of the operating table, I always think it's funny how we can focus on the completely irrelevant details at really important times of our lives. Stanza 2, 'The waiting room' is the post op recovery room, following the general anaesthetic, and I've used a little bit of artistic licence by putting a priest ('shadows, collared') in the corner of the room. The last stanza deals with that fine line between life and death, memories going through the mind like flicking through photos on your phone, remembering at the end the words of the ('general') anaesthetist as he counts down from ten, to make sure the patient is asleep, a sleep they may never wake up from.