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Kay Dillon Jul 2018
Though my hair has gone grey,
And my bones have started to creak,
I still have so much to say,
And I still have a right to speak.
I see the looks you give me,
With eyes full of disdain,
I only wish that you could see,
That this mistreatment causes me pain.
I know it's hard for me to move about,
And I cannot always hear,
But that gives you no reason to shout,
Or try to motivate me by fear.
I was young once too,
And I understand your work is trying,
Ii can only hope one day when it is you,
You won't be given a reason to sit here crying.
So back up a bit,
And bless me with a smile,
Take a break and sit,
And just talk with me for awhile.
Kay Dillon Jul 2018
Raindrops pour down,
And the lightning flashes.
Leaves wither to brown,
As the trees burn to ashes.
Flames dance and wave,
Consuming everything in sight.
So we must call upon the Brave,
To rescue us this terrifying night.
With their ladder and their hose,
And their trucks painted red.
These men and women chose,
To save the world while we rest safe in bed.
So next time you just, about that whistle you hear,
Or criticize those harsh flashing lights.
Remember they seek no payment, that they volunteer,
Knowing full well they may not survive the night.
So draw your loved ones near,
Hold them a little tighter,
For they may not have been here,
Were it not for a Fire Fighter.

— The End —