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It's 1 AM
And we're making sweet love.
There is a house burning in the distant, cold morning.
You're called.
You rush to the firehouse,
Leaving me cold and empty.
How I wish you'd stay with me.

You throw on gear like so many times before.
Your son cries in his crib,
        He knows you're gone.
I cradle him in my arms,
Like you did me only minutes ago.
I put my breast to his mouth, hoping he's hungry,
Hungry as you were only minutes ago.
But it's no use.
    He knows you're gone.

You arrive at the house, which turns the black sky
Red with the burning of its materials and souls.
You search for the souls you can protect and save.
I hope you're protected, but I now know what your son has known all along.

You find a small girl in her closet, barely conscious.
You give her your oxygen and take her out of the fiery hell.
She thinks you are god, come to save her.
You tell her you're not.
You talk, trying to keep her conscious. She asks if you have a child.
"Yes, I have a son."
"Do you love him?"
"Yes, with all my heart."
"Did you say goodbye to him?"
"No, but I'll say hello when I get home."

The Little Girl sees her mother's burnt body carried out.
"Is that my mommy?" she asks.
"Yes. She told me she loves you more than anything."
"Hey God, where will she go?"
You pause and say, "Honey, she isn't going anywhere. She'll be right here with you,
protecting you as you grow up."
"Good. I love my mommy. And I love you too, god."
She closes her eyes
And falls on the stretcher she was sitting on.
You feel pain-the little, lifeless body will always be in your mind.

I begin to cry with our son.
I sway back and forth, gently rocking.
       He knows you're gone. So do I.
You find another body with a soul still alive.
A young boy.
You hand him past the door between the two worlds.
You've just let him go.

The house collapses upon you.
You're gone.
My strong fireman is gone.

I cry with our son, we both know you're gone.
I wait for that call.
I hold our son, close to my body.
I get that call at 4AM.
The sun is not up yet.
What they say to me, means nothing. I knew you were gone.
I cried, but not violently.
Tears just curved down my face.
I ask for your gear, after they remove it.

It smells of dust, fire, death, but
I can still smell you.
I shake it and my eyes fall upon your pocket.
It was full.
You never leave things in there.
I found a note, entitled to James and me.

"I love you both more than anything. I need to say it more often. I love you."

Dated today
1:45 AM
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