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My heavy heart is ailing
my leaky soul has gout
my sorry head is dizzy
for Doctor Stern is out.
She prescribed greatness
in the radio waiting room
with a voice like penicillin
and a mind like a super moon.
She picked medicinal apples
from New England’s knowledgeable trees,
the latest cancer research
and traffic on the threes.
With a stern and steady presence
she walked us through the storms
like the flow of healing waters
a liquid art in human form.
When there’s sickness in the world
too much fightin’ and a-tusslin’
she turns on that microphone
and out comes Robitussin.
I can’t believe she’s leaving
we’ll miss her, all in all,
on those afternoon commutes,
her voice was Tylenol.
When things seem overwhelming
she brings perspective to the space
her presence is a serum
of intelligence and grace.
So let’s raise a glass of Nyquil
as she ascends retirement’s stairways,
and toast Diane Stern,
the doctor of the airwaves.

Bye Di!

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