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25
Aug
2002
  • 08/25/2002
  • WildlandFire.com Team
  • 267 views
  • 0 Comment

A call, a hug,
A kiss, a sigh.
Too soon, it seems
Out the door he must fly.

A day goes by
Maybe two or three.
So far so good,
I’m missing him, you see.

Soon it’s a week,
Then a few days more.
Now I’m watching the phone
And watching the door.

A week turns to two
Sometimes to three.
No word for him yet,
How fair can this be?

I know in my head
Sometimes you can’t call,
But my heart has it’s own rules
And it hurts – that’s all.

When I feel I can’t stand it
He walks through the door.
I hear his voice, see his smile
And worry no more.

Everything said
In that first wonderful kiss.
Time stops, thought stops
Lost in the love I did miss.

In that moment I realize
I can survive being alone
“Cause my belov’d firefighter
Has now returned home.”

I was trying to get some sewing done, but this darn poem kept DEMANDING that
I stop and write it down. It is amazing how much it helps to write these.
Thanks for reading them.

Note: No, he has not called or returned home (yet). I was just writing down
what it feels like, and remembering the last time he walked in the door.

Poet

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