Each morning
I travel the long white hall
to the corner room
where you sleep.
Each morning
I disturb your subtle moment
of peace
with my clinical barrage.
Each morning
I pray as I walk that hall
as I take that final step into your room
that a different face will greet me.
Each morning
I hope that life has returned
to your smile
and that my medicine has healed.
Yet, each morning
my heart breaks
as I gather my clinical data
at your bedside
and you sleep again until tomorrow
morning.
