She collected pennies for luck
And never had change for the telephone.
She read a million novels about the relationships between people
And never found within them a common theme.
She sighed that she would like to learn to play the cello
And never got around to it.
She sang arias in the original Italian
And never learned the meaning of the words.
She wrote long letters to long-lost friends
And never bothered to post them.
She bought a VCR
And never learned to set the clock.
She got a library card
And never read Ulysses.
She climbed a mountain in high-heeled shoes
And never complained about the blisters.
Written for the people who cared enough about the future of medicine to give us their most personal of gifts, their bodies, so that we could be the best doctors we can be.