In a quiet room where shadows creep,
Lies a potion to calm wounds that weep.
Dakin's Solution, a healer's art,
Crafted by science, a gentle part.
Born from the mind of Dakin, wise,
In the early dawn where the sun does rise,
A blend of bleach and water pure,
To cleanse the wounds, to make them sure.
Antiseptic whispers in every drop,
Fighting bacteria, making them stop.
In hospitals and clinics, it finds its place,
In the tender hands of healing grace.
With pH balanced, its touch is kind,
To wounds it tends, to souls it binds.
A guardian against infection's might,
Guiding the wounded back to light.
But heed the warnings, handle with care,
For this elixir, though gentle, can snare.
Under watchful eyes, it finds its way,
Aiding the journey from night to day.
So Dakin's Solution, in every measure,
Guides the path to health and treasure.
With science's gift and nature's touch,
It aids the wounded, healing much.
