A Firefighters Gloves

A Firefighters 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 2am 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 a halves flowing one twenty 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 Firefighters Gloves touch
Those are the things we all need so much

They hold back the rage on that 3am call, they hold in the fear when 
you're lost in a hall. They hold back the pity, agony, sorrow
They hold in the desire to "Do it tomorrow".

A glove's just a glove till it's on firefighters who work all day long 
just to pull an all-nighter. And into the fray 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 comes 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 they sit there so red-eyed with their gloves in their coats
The tears come so fast that the furniture floats. They're not so brave 
now; their hands they can't hide. I guess it just means that 
they'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 don't wait.

Pat Browne