"Holding The Line"

At night I don my armor,

Like a soldier off to war.

I say a prayer I load a gun,

To hold the line I swore.


And as I prepare for battle,

Or whatever may unwind.

There are always many thoughts,

That weigh heavy upon my mind.


Iím humble before God,

And I hope he understands.

My frailties and my failings,

And my weakness as a man.


I live my best day to day,

I do the best I can.

But in the end Iím nothing more,

Than a tired lonely man.


My job gives me honor,

And value for myself.

But beneath the shield I see a man,

Whoís lacking in true wealth.


I have pride and I have strength,

For all the things Iíve done.

But in the end itís all to clear,

I hold the line alone.


For when the night is over,

And the shift is through.

There is no one there to fight for,

No one to come home to.


The nights I work I long for rest,

Then when it comes it isnít peace.

Because a rough manís only friend,

Is the unforgiving streets.


But the autumn silence of rural roads,

And fields of farms long gone.

Is but a constant reminder,

Of how I hold the line alone.


And if I should fall while on the line,

As lawmen often do.

I pray the Lord may take me home,

After all that Iíve been through.


So as I prepare for battle,

And to leave the safety of my home.

It still is heavy in my mind,

How I hold the line alone.


Thus it really is my only fear,

That if my name is etched in stone.

It means Iíve fallen without love,

And held the line alone.




A.B. Frank

Used with Special Permission of the Author
Copyright ©
September 10, 2006 - All Rights Reserved
and may not be duplicated without permission

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