In the quiet halls of healing light,
Where whispers weave through the night,
A doctor stands, with heart so bright,
Guarding lives, with all their might.

Through trials tough and moments grim,
They fight the dark, though hope seems dim,
With steady hand and solemn hymn,
They mend the broken, limb by limb.

Beneath the masks, their eyes do gleam,
With knowledge vast and a caring beam,
They chase away each haunting dream,
And lift the spirits, it would seem.

O healer of the weary soul,
Your touch makes broken spirits whole,
In your presence, hearts console,
For in your care, we find our goal.