Brisk walking, black shoes sturdily tapping, echoing into the silent surroundings. Although the day has broken, it is a quiet corridor.
Passing Father Senes on the stairs, a gentle smile.

A restless burr thrums the air.
Sunlight shining through windows tall
in an airy Flo ward.
Curtains surrounding or marking a patient bed.
Nurses of different hues; white, blue and green. Some with paper caps, carefully pinned to hair. A vocal reminder for “hair to be bound and hands clean”.

Taps and sinks centered in the room.
A plastic pinny. A metal trolley being pushed towards a patient; with bandage’s aplenty.
Flower vases being placed next to water jugs, as a student walks past, gingerly holding a metal commode.
The swish of sluices thrum a regular call.

Brass nameplates above beds; a benefactors gift.
Paper card with patient names and folds of notes bookend a bed.
Observations recorded; a daily, hourly event.
An old fashioned table for those well enough to sit and eat together, but not as busy as would be expected.
An elderly parade, with an individual story. History retold to a younger ear.
Endless questions of identity and dates.

Shock of recognition at a brass plaque; as a memory resurfaces of a beloved Papa recalling a hospital stay from decades ago.
The past and present colliding.