THE NURSE

Hands so gentle, yet skilled in healing,

laid on flesh, so torn and bleeding.

Relief in eyes of patient showing,

a drug enters bloodstream, ever flowing.

A mother and sweetheart, she tries to be,

spreading joy on oceans of misery.

Tears of suffering on so many faces.

Those wards are far from heavenly places.

Dressed in uniform, so crisp and plain,

working herself, very often in pain.

A burden she carries day and night,

toiling with doctors, all sickness to fight.

Sharp arrows have pierced her tender heart,

but onward she marches, playing her part.

A duty so hard, with rewards so few.

A sacrifice she makes, everyday anew.

Just like the oak of schooners mast,

her strength must resist every stormy blast.

Great knowledge to her is offered free.

A perception with pain comes easily.