The doctor stands where hope and science meet,In sterile rooms where whispered prayers ascend,With steady hands, they guide the frail to greetThe promise of a brighter path to mend.
In quiet hours when the worldâs asleep,They labor on through shadows deep and long,A sentinel where wounds and secrets keep,Transforming pain into a healing song.
Their eyes have seen both joy and sorrowâs face,Yet still, they walk with purpose unafraid,In every heartbeat, find a sacred space,Where life and love are tenderly remade.
Oh, gentle soul with strength beyond the known,In every act, a silent vow renewed,A testament to how the seeds are sownIn gardens where the healing light is viewed.