Volunteer Poem


	Thoughts of a Volunteer Firefighting is my life Next to God, my kids and my husband or wife. Training, meetings, fighting fires No one thinks I ever tire. Regular job, scouts and a soccer game, I keep volunteering just the same. I start at the bottom and rise thru the ranks, Serving endless hours with no pay, and little thanks. So why do you do it? Someone will ask, No compensation, or thanks for such a task. You leave a warm bed in the middle of night, or jump up from Christmas dinner after only a bite. Risking life and limb at the sound of the bell, Are you that dedicated? Or just crazy as hell? It's hard to explain - people don't understand, firefighters.....are their own special brand. We're rough and we're tough but we're loving and caring, We're male and we're female and we never stop sharing. We're old and we're young, we're black and we're white, and we never give up without a good fight! The worst nightmare we face, the one we can't waive, is the fire burning too long, with the life we can't save. The one where you do everything right, but it was just too late - no matter how hard you fight. Those are the ones that hurt to the core, it's so easy to forget the ones you've saved before. The rough and tough fades - as a part of you dies, the lump in your throat, the tears in your eyes. Why do I do it? You hear a voice say... Trying to think beyond the pain of the day. Then deep down inside from a place in your heart comes the answer...you knew it right from the start. Giving your best for others is what you've decreed, going the extra mile for those in need. So you work thru the pain, the hurt, and the strife, there's no other way....fire fighting's your life! C. Kline 1994

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