This one is forty,
But looks twenty-five if a day.
Cute as a button.
Affects a serious posture, arms crossed, eyes scanning The still department.
A snarling bulldog, who could afford to lose More than a few pounds from his head.
Alone in his labyrinth
The general awaits his adversaries.
Not young, but brash
Clinically on point,
Only arrogant enough.
Happy to be seen for who he is
We must be careful with who we pretend to be.
His eyes dim, and a shadow of the doctor he once was But in rare moments His old self seen.
Another year at most, and this one is through.
Loves his family enough.
“Alfred, you should visit this week”
my father says quietly.
Poem submitted by Alfred Cheng, emergency medicine resident in New York City
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