Adam Schreibman
Gone but not forgotten.
Brother when you weep for me, remember that it was meant to be.
Lay me down and when you leave, remember I'll be at your sleeve.
In every dark and choking hall, I'll be there as you slowly crawl.
On every roof in driving snow, I'll hold your coat and you will know.
... In cellars hot with searing heat, at windows where a gate you meet.
In closets where young children hide, you know I'll be there at your side.
The house from which I now respond, is overstaffed with heroes gone.
Men who answered one last bell, did the job and did it well.
As firemen we understand, that death's a card dealt in our hand.
A card we hope we never play, but one we hold there anyway.
That card is something we ignore, as we crawl across a weakened floor.
For we know that we're the only prayer, for anyone that might be there.
So remember as you wipe your tears, the joy I knew throughout the years.
As I did the job I loved to do, I pray that thought will see you through.
Author Unknown.
