My Father is a Firefighter.

We're seldom named in poems, though we do have charm and poise,
Firemen never seem to have girls it's always boys, boys, boys!
Well, my Daddy's a fireman, and I'm proud as I can be,
While my name isn't Tommy or Billy, he loves me 'cause I'm me.
He needs both me and Mommy to remind him of things to do,
like going to Church on Sunday and emptying the garbage, too.
One day he took me with him to his firehouse downtown,
I sat in the big red engine and pushed the siren down.
At times, I like to fool him; make believe I'm asleep at night,
He'd whisper; "Nite-nite, little darlin', don't let the bed bugs bite!"
Please don't tell anybody, I once saw my Daddy cry,
He fought a real bad fire and told Mommy he saw someone die.
When he fights these fires, I guess I'm too young to know,
He's always helping people. And that's why I love him so.
The reason I wrote this poem is to explain the best I can,
Girls, just like boys, can say with pride


 Submitted By: Nicole Pote