"Hey Mom!" he yelled from the attic door
"What's these old boots and hard hat for?"
With a lump in her throat and a tear-stained cheek,
His mother swallowed and started to speak.
"Come here, my son", his mother said,
"There's things to tell when I clear my head."
The past raced madly through her mind.
She searched her heart, the words to find.
At last she sighed and rubbed his hair
And the words that followed I'd like to share.
"Those old boots and hat", she said with pride,
"Were worn by a man with grit inside.
He wore them to help people in need,
Though facing danger, would never concede,
Many a time in the dead of night
He jumped in those boots and flashed out of sight
To answer a call and not knowing for sure
What danger or heartache he may have to endure.
Your father, my son, was not like most dads;
It was mainly because of the job he had.
His life was devoted to all of mankind,
And just why he chose it is unclear in my mind.
But I'm proud to say that I was a part
Of a man who possessed such a courageous heart.
Though, for all his discomfort and all of his pain
The time he spent here was never in vain.
So the memories I'll keep and the love I will save,
Though small consolations for the life that he gave.
Your father's days here made others seem brighter,
For your father, my son, was a firefighter."