He watches his son.
A smile like a voyage,
Crosses the sleeping child's face.
Tucked beneath the sheets,
Unaware of the years,
His father has held the night sky aloft,
With both hands above his head,
So that he would come to no harm.
Nor will he remember,
How he held those tiny perfect hands,
On deadly adventures,
As they explored,
The gorges between the table and the chairs.
Nor will he remember the kiss,
That cured his every injury
As he sleeps peacefully.
Believing there are no dangers in this world,
That his Dad cannot subdue.
There is no need of clapping or candles lit,
For the ordinary superhero.
Sep 7, 2020
Sep 7, 2020 at 7:01 AM UTC
He watches his son.
A smile like a voyage,
Crosses the sleeping child's face.
Tucked beneath the sheets,
Unaware of the years,
His father has held the night sky aloft,
With both hands above his head,
So that he would come to no harm.
Nor will he remember,
How he held those tiny perfect hands,
On deadly adventures,
As they explored,
The gorges between the table and the chairs.
Nor will he remember the kiss,
That cured his every injury
As he sleeps peacefully.
Believing there are no dangers in this world,
That his Dad cannot subdue.
There is no need of clapping or candles lit,
For the ordinary superhero.
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