Serenade Of White Coats

In sterile halls where healing dwells,

White coats glide, as tales they tell.

Doctors, guardians of life's fragile flame,

Navigating shadows, a noble game.

With stethoscopes that echo beats,

They decipher life's intricate feats.

A symphony of ailments they decode,

In the language of pulses, a healing ode.

Through the night, their vigil keeps,

A promise to mend where sorrow seeps.

Silent whispers in the quiet ward,

Guiding patients with a reassuring chord.

In labs, they chase elusive cures,

A dance with science, where hope endures.

With hands that mend, and minds that mend,

They stitch the fabric, where pain would rend.

In operating rooms, a sacred space,

Precision and skill, a life they trace.

Threads of expertise weave the cure,

A tapestry of resilience, strong and pure.

Yet, in their hearts, compassion reigns,

Beyond the charts, where empathy gains.

Doctors, healers, in the art of care,

An oath they uphold, a promise rare.