A Boy Of Just Four
Charles Pore

Alone in my study, one evening I sat just thinking of things that had been.
When a knock at the door and a whisper I heard "Daddy, may I come in?"
Then entered my son, a small little boy who recently had turned four. 
There were tears in his eyes and stains on his cheeks, silently he studied the floor. 
I questioned myself, what could it have been to tear at the strings of his heart.

He climbed into a chair, but spoke not a word as if wondering where he should start. 
"Tell me my man, what's all the tears?" I cautiously asked my young lad.
Silently I studied this boy of just four.  "I need to talk to you dad.
The boy down the street said something today, in fun, but it hurt me a lot.
His dad is a teacher, important you know.  But he says your just simply a cop." 
I knew someday this problem would rise and I wondered why it was now.

Seeking the truth, why I am what I am...I'd answer his question somehow.
Slowly I searched to find the right words to quell the pain in his mind.
I diligently searched, but all was in vain for words I just could not find.
He left the study, his head hanging low, without the answer he sought.
A question so simple, but hard to explain.  Why is your daddy a cop?

All through the night I tossed and I turned but answers were just simply not there.
Tormented was I and the answer I'd find.  Though exactly I did not know where.
On patrol the next day, I pondered some more til an ambulance I was dispatched to meet.
A boy on a bike was hit by a car.  The call was right on my street.
I arrived very quickly and there in the road, lay a boy about seven or eight.
I worked on his chest and with breathing restored, I continued to give him first aid.

I completed the case and closed the report, and turning I was ready to go.
But then from the crowd came my boy of just four.  And his friend he had there in tow.
His face was all smile, a circle aglow.  And I asked him why he was so glad.
His answer was simple,
"Cause when I grow up, I want to be just like my DAD."