hero

when he could leap tall buildings with a single bound
who needed doors when he could jump through my window?
now my window misses his dramatic entrances

still wearing a smug look on his face and globs of gel in his hair
my man of steel now sits on a cold metal wheelchair
hoping to resemble someone you've seen in a comic book
he longs to go back to his glory days

a phone booth was his favorite place to take his clothes off
with wavy hair and glasses, no one could recognize him
i still think he looks great in tights

his useless body stays upright at all times
when he slumps down, he snaps when i help him
"i;m a grown man, lois. i can do it myself"
i sigh, "i know, clark." but help him anyway.

faster than a speeding bullet, he always showed up
at the last minute to rescue me from danger
but did he ever wonder who was there to save him?

as i spoon-fed him his mashed potatoes, he eagerly devours his food
leaving stains on the big yellow S on his chest
in the end when he wasn't a super man anymore,
it was I who turned out to be the superhero.