Dear Editor:
A poem in support of frontline workers, entitled You’re The Best.
The Frontline workers we have in our land,
The bravest of brave and the grandest of grand.
Their loving hearts give they don’t hesitate,
Knowing quite well what could be their fate.
I hear all the time how they risk their life,
Giving out hope while dealing with strife.
As I do my part by staying at home,
I’ll thank frontline workers by writing this poem.
A is for ACTION and ready they were,
B is for BRAVERY they have it for sure.
C is for CARE these unselfish brave,
doing their best every patient to save.
D is for DARING and for sure they are,
E is for EFFORT and each one a star.
F is for FEARLESS each one of them shows,
While each passing day the patient list grows.
G is for Good that they do every day,
H is for HELP for the sick as they lay.
I is for much INSPIRATION they give,
And praying to God that each patient will live.
J is for JOY that they still try to spread,
K is for KINDNESS at each patients bed.
L is for LOVE and there’s no shortage there
And it’s given freely for each one to share.
M is for MOURNING each patient that dies,
N is for NUMB as each soul up and flies.
O is for OPEN their mind has to be,
To offer some hope to each one that they see.
P is for PITY that they hold inside,
Q is for QUICK to be at each bedside.
R is for REST they so desperately need,
But they motor on that’s the type of the breed.
S is for SORROW each day they conceal,
T is for TENDERNESS traits they all feel.
U for UNSELFISH not even one bone,
They’ll be at a bed for each murmur and moan.
V is for VICTORY a win they expect,
W for WILLING to serve and protect.
X is for EXTRA the hours they worked,
Right in the middle where the enemy lurked.
Y is for YELLS in their loudest of tone,
Each time that a patient walks out on their own.
Z is for ZEST that doesn’t run out,
Even though weariness gives them a clout.
We cannot find words to thank them enough,
We honk horns, make posters and do other stuff.
Their loving hearts give though danger is near,
They worry inside while hiding their fear.
We owe them so much we cannot repay,
Their life is in danger on every work day.
But how can we thank the ones that have died,
We must keep their memory and hold it with pride.
We do need a moment what e’re the cost,
So we can remember each one that we lost.
For each one of you that have gone to your rest,
And each one still working I think you’re the BEST.
Lyndon Hunter,
Clifford