The Ministering Angel

The Ministering Angel
They lay there by the hundreds
and she alone -
Lamp in hand, traversed
the four miles of beds at night.
Yearning to nurse them all;
Her heart reached out to the men
Writhing in agony and pain;
She stooped to caress a fevered brow
To wipe away sweat
To change a sheet’
To dress a wound
To hold a hand,
To console a weeping lad.

She had, had a long day
The night would be longer;

She stopped by those
Who would not see the morn
A last message, a last wish
Something for the family!

For her nursing was sacred
In her own words a ‘Serenifer’
P. Biswas