A poem for Clinical Fellows
Where did I leave it?
My confidence, my wit.
Confrontation seems to stifle my flame.
There’s a part of me that now feels lame.
How can I know what I know, yet need to justify my stance.
Nothing I can say will help me in this professional dance.
I’m new and I’m young, yet I have things to say.
How long is long enough to have a heyday?
Just when I gain ground,
I get stuck on the mound.
I know, ref –
I’m just a CF.