At fifty-seven, Wes walks the halls, Where wisdom weaves through echoing calls, An academic with a steady hand, In the College of Policing, he takes his stand. With eyes that watch the ebbing tide, Of justice served, of laws applied, He shapes young minds with seasoned grace, Guarding truth in that hallowed space. Time, a companion, whispers low, A testament to what he sows, In lectures filled with passion’s flame, Crafting futures in duty's name. Oh, Wes, where knowledge finds its crest, You are the lighthouse, guiding the rest, With every lesson, every taught line, A legacy, ageless and divine.