These are the hands
That touch us first
Feel your head
Find the pulse
And make your bed.
These are the hands
That tap your back
Test the skin
Hold your arm
Wheel the bin
Change the bulb
Fix the drip
Pour the jug
Replace your hip
These are the hands
That fill the bath
Mop the floor
Flick the switch
Soothe the sore
Burn the swabs
Give us a jab
Throw out sharps
Design the lab.
And these are the hands
That stop the leaks
Empty the pan
Wipe the pipes
Carry the can
Clamp the veins
Make the cast
Log the dose
And touch us last.
– Michael Rosen
Running with Stethoscopes 
I like this poem.
You can’t spell ‘Michael’ incidentally. But I like this poem a lot. And Rosen is a fantastic poet, I’d quite forgotten about him, thank you :).
Respelt – what I get for typing everything out on an iPod. I loved this – saw it on a poster in a GP surgery and it resonated. Glad you enjoyed it.