Homework ending 04/06/12 - I remember when...
Posted: Fri May 25, 2012 11:56 am
I begged my Uncle Alfred when I saw him down the street,
to tell me of his most exciting blaze.
In polished brass and spit shined boots he cut a handsome sway,
but surprised me with a melancholic gaze.
He donned a sad and wistful mien and looked me in the eye,
I thought I saw a tremble ‘round his jaw,
“Oh Fred,” he said in quiet tones, “to you I will not lie,
I wonder sometimes what I’m fighting for.”
He was the Station’s champion and the best in the Brigade
his bravery was known the county wide,
but as we walked he spoke his heart and let his feelings show,
“you know,” he said, “last week I could have died.
The Grand Hotel was burning, I responded to the call,
the smoke as think as custard swirled around,
the only way to enter was to crawl on hands and knees,
my nose as close as could be to the ground.
I heard a child’s whimper and its mother’s manic cries
I couldn’t see my hand before my face,
somehow, they were before me and I shepherded them out
escaping from that hellish, awful space.
My lungs were near to bursting and the world spun ‘round my head,
I couldn’t find my legs, my hands were burned,
and for an instant couldn’t think of why I felt such pain
or why my head was light or stomach churned.
In hospital recovering I sifted through my thoughts,
I weighed the pros and cons of what I do.
My children nearly lost their dad, their mum to widow’s weeds,
my life before my eyes in moments flew.
A picture of that little babe unbeckoned filled my mind
her mother’s grateful kisses mixed with tears.
I realised then Freddy though a Fireman’s lot’s unsure,
'twould fill my heart all my remaining years.”
Then as the local paper snapped a picture for its news,
I wondered if the folk who scanned the page,
could see the sacrifices that my uncle made for them,
the suffering in his eyes beyond his age.
to tell me of his most exciting blaze.
In polished brass and spit shined boots he cut a handsome sway,
but surprised me with a melancholic gaze.
He donned a sad and wistful mien and looked me in the eye,
I thought I saw a tremble ‘round his jaw,
“Oh Fred,” he said in quiet tones, “to you I will not lie,
I wonder sometimes what I’m fighting for.”
He was the Station’s champion and the best in the Brigade
his bravery was known the county wide,
but as we walked he spoke his heart and let his feelings show,
“you know,” he said, “last week I could have died.
The Grand Hotel was burning, I responded to the call,
the smoke as think as custard swirled around,
the only way to enter was to crawl on hands and knees,
my nose as close as could be to the ground.
I heard a child’s whimper and its mother’s manic cries
I couldn’t see my hand before my face,
somehow, they were before me and I shepherded them out
escaping from that hellish, awful space.
My lungs were near to bursting and the world spun ‘round my head,
I couldn’t find my legs, my hands were burned,
and for an instant couldn’t think of why I felt such pain
or why my head was light or stomach churned.
In hospital recovering I sifted through my thoughts,
I weighed the pros and cons of what I do.
My children nearly lost their dad, their mum to widow’s weeds,
my life before my eyes in moments flew.
A picture of that little babe unbeckoned filled my mind
her mother’s grateful kisses mixed with tears.
I realised then Freddy though a Fireman’s lot’s unsure,
'twould fill my heart all my remaining years.”
Then as the local paper snapped a picture for its news,
I wondered if the folk who scanned the page,
could see the sacrifices that my uncle made for them,
the suffering in his eyes beyond his age.
