There was once a doctor <br />Good at heart and a benefactor <br />Ministering to the sick and ailing <br />In total faith unfailing <br /> <br />Sun or shower or the dead of night <br />He reached out to the patient in distressed plight <br />He would trek to his home at untimely hour <br />To give succor that was in his power. <br /> <br />His patients placed him in their heart <br />Closest to God for his own part <br />In healing their woes, wound or wart <br />And he was ever content with what he got. <br /> <br />He didn’t serve with an eye on rewards <br />Nor did he care for the golden awards <br />That follow the hype of treating the elite <br />He prayed for the patient’s cure, his sole delight. <br /> <br />His patients loved and adored him like God; <br />These days, he would be called a fraud <br />Who makes up for his want of skill <br />By his gimmicks and words with frill <br /> <br />He found no time for food or sleep <br />Into his own ailments, he didn’t probe deep <br />His family and friends couldn’t suffer to keep <br />Their peace with his decline steep <br /> <br />Long did not the doctor’s earthly mission last; <br />A few days passed and the doctor breathed his last <br />The doctor’s last words in his notebook read: <br /> “I have a call from the Lord to sleep on His bed”<br /><br />Venkateswaran Krishnan Sreenivasan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/god-calls-them-young/
