A Firefighters Glove

A Firefighter's Gloves hold many things, From elderly arms to a kids
broken swing, From the hands they shake and the backs they pat, To
the tiny claw marks of another treed cat. At 2 am they are filled
with the chrome, From the DWI who was on her way home. And the
equipment they use to roll back the dash, From a family of 6 she
involved in the crash. The brush rakes in Spring wear the palms out,
When the wind does a "90" to fill them with doubt. The thumb of the
glove wipes the sweat from the brow, Of the face of a firefighter
who mutters "What now"! They hold inch and three quarters flowing
one seventy five, So the ones going in, come back out alive. When
the regulator goes; then there isn't too much, But the bypass valve
they eagerly clutch. The rescue equipment, the ropes, the C-collars;
The lives that they save never measured in dollars, Are the obvious
things firefighters gloves hold, Or, so that is what I've been
always told. But there are other things Firefighter's Gloves touch,
Those are the things we all need so much. They hold back the rage on
that 3 am call, They hold in the fear when your lost in a hall, They
hold back the pity, agony, sorrow. They hold in the desire to "Do it
tomorrow". A glove is just a glove till it's on firefighter, Who
work all day long just to pull an all-nighter. And into the foray
they charge without fear, At the sound of a "Help" they think that
they hear. When firefighters' hands go into the glove, It's a
firefighter who always fills it with love. Sometimes the sorrow is
too much to bear, And it seeps the glove and burns deep "in there".
Off come the gloves when the call is done, And into the pocket until
the next run. The hands become lonely and cold for a bit, And shake
just a little thinking of it. And we sit there so red eyed with our
gloves in their coats, The tears come so fast that the furniture
floats. We're not so brave now; our hands we can't hide, I guess it
just means that we're human inside. And though some are paid and
others are not, The gloves feel the same when it's cold or it's hot.
To someone you're helping to just get along, When you fill them with
love, you always feel strong. And so when I go on my final big ride,
I hope to have my gloves by my side, To show to St. Peter at that
heavenly gate. Cause as everyone knows, Firefighters do not wait!
--Unknown.........