In the gentle hum of frequencies long past,  
Brian Evans whispers, a connection vast.  
"I used to help," with a voice both proud and clear,  
Through '68 to '70, the message dear.

With his Dad by his side, under a sky so wide,  
Phone patches they did weave, in hope they'd believe.  
For servicemen and women, across seas so grim,  
Their voices a bridge, a light, however dim.

The equipment now silent, echoes of a key,  
Holds memories of a time, of unity.  
He's now the guardian of this sacred lore,  
W7BBW, alive once more.

Feeling cool, with the call sign in his grasp,  
A legacy continued, in each breath a gasp.  
The Morse code taps out a rhythm of the heart,  
A silent key, yet his spirit never to depart.

In every call made, in every static crackle,  
Lies a story of love, across the ether it travels.  
Brian, with his license, continues the tale,  
Under the same stars, where once his Dad set sail.

So here's to the echoes, in the airwaves they swim,  
To Brian, to his Dad, and their service kin.  
W7BBW, a call sign of pride,  
A son's tribute, in the airwaves they reside.

February 13, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop KE4WA