Big, tired, Ash covered firefighters.
Rows of dark, ash covered gear.
Firefighters communicating over the radio,
The water trickling from the leaky trucks.
The sweet, pungent smell of fire off of worn out gear,
mixing with the mildew of soiled hoses.
The taste of carbon material penetrated in our noses,
The smokiness of exhaust given off from the trucks.
The slick, cold ice-like metal of the trucks
The warm gear that just carried a baby from an untamed inferno
Being in the firehouse..makes you feel..Lucky.

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