The Scientist's Sonnet
The sky may shine above the park below
My friends will pass and bathe in sunlight bright
But I will slave away until I know,
Which primer, enzyme, or reagent is right.
The lab is cold and sterile. I am weak:
For plate after plate, research must be done
A trial unsuccessful, data is bleak
Hypothesis rejected, work undone.
The slightest error fatal, steady hand
Is needed to pipette. More cells, more wells
To still be filled. The work and its demand
Now numbs my brain. Exhaustion comes in swells.
You offer challenge, strife, and raw defiance
But still I toil for you, beloved science.