Typical Irish Day

It started out as a typical Irish day Put on a kilt Tune the pipes Beat the drum Nothing out of the ordinary My father and I got in the car We drove North to a town that was unfamiliar Then suddenly, familiar faces surrounded me Cheers, jokes, and greetings exchanged People with kilts of different colors, interacted as if they were family It started out as a typical band job We formed up 3 across and 25 deep Bass Drums showing different logos now mold 6 bands into one with their deep beat It started out as a typical parade The Drum Major calls out the set Bagpipes begin to whine Drummers’ hands move with a smooth rhythm But the beat is slower then usual It’s a dirge. It started out as a typical funeral Everywhere I look, Puffy eyes, red cheeks Then, I hear the somber sobs of the widow crying as she is clutching an American Flag close to her chest. This was not a typical funeral. Hundreds of policemen lined the street With their freshly pressed uniforms and white gloves The man we honored, a hero Had fallen in the line of duty A policeman, hit by a car And even though a stranger to me, I felt connected to him For this could’ve been my father Hundreds of stops But one can end a life I knew I was lucky My dad, who has made the same routine stops everyday for 23 years Now marches only a few rows of screeching pipes and thunderous drums ahead of me And the man who was killed was being followed by his loved ones on the last trip to his Eternal resting place His name forever memorialized in Washington D.C. And in the hearts of everyone who honored him that dark day.