Call Waiting-A Poem for Volunteer Firefighters

I’m laying in the darkness, I cannot fall asleep.
I wonder where my husband is, I wish he’d call or beep.
I saw him leave this morning, the black boots on his feet.
He said he had to run now, and I know he’s on the street.
You’ll know him when You see him, his truck is very loud.
He has no time to stop now, he doesn’t want a crowd.
A caller said “Please hurry!” Come quickly if you will.
A young man with a motorbike is laying very still.
A mother calls in anguish, her child limp and blue.
HURRY! Come, I need you! I don’t know what to do.
I hear his key turning, he’s coming in the door.
I hear him drop his boots, then footsteps on the floor.
I hear him in the kitchen, I can tell from his walk,
He’ll soon come and wake me, and ask if we can talk.
We’ll sit out in the moonlight, and listen to the night.
He talks about a shooting, a streetgang in a fight.
A car crash, a drowning, a small child hurt at play.
The things he needs to talk about, the things he did today.
The old, the sick, the injured, some so very small.
He did all he could to help them, he answered every call.
Every day he has a mission, he knows it in his heart.
He does everything he can and always does his part.
If you are sick or injured and you need to reach my Hon,
I can tell you how to reach him, his number is ……911.
~A Firefighter’s Wife

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