The First Responder
The firelight danced in patterns;
Upon the faded wall.
As the old man sat and listened
To the mournful night-birds call.
On the floor there with his puppy,
Sat Jackie oh so dear;
"Grandpa what are heroes made of"?
He asked as he drew near.
"Are they made like other men?
Of blood and skin and bone?"
Do they cry when they're afraid?
And pray when they're alone?
The old man paused a moment;
There were visions in his head;
Of fires and guns and metal:
And friends who'd long been dead.
Of the stairs there in the tower;
And when the planes came down.
And that kid there with the baby;
Alone at night downtown.
He picked up little Jackie;
And sat him on his knee;
"A Hero's just there trying;
To be what he has to be."
"Protecting what is precious;
Doing what he must,
For those who really need him;
He cannot betray their trust."
A sleepy boy that evening,
Dozed on his Grandpa's chest.
And the Hero there to guard him,
Was one of the very best."
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