Guardians in Scrubs

In sterile halls where healing dwells,

The scrub-clad doctors weave their spells.

With hands that steady, hearts that care,

They navigate the realm of repair.

In gowns of white, a symbol of pure,

They tread the path of the obscure.

Through trials, triumphs, sorrow, glee,

A steadfast force for you and me.

Their stethoscopes whisper tales untold,

In every heartbeat, a story unfolds.

With precision and expertise,

They mend the fabric of life's unease.

Scrubbed sleeves bear the marks of toil,

A dedication that does not recoil.

In operating rooms where hope may soar,

They confront the ailments at their core.

With knowledge vast and minds acute,

They decipher ailments, resolute.

In scrubs adorned with care and grace,

They navigate the human race.

In the tapestry of health, they sow,

A symphony of skills that grow.

Oh, scrub-clad guardians, steadfast and true,

In your hands, wellness blooms anew.