My Hero can't leap tall buildings with a single bound. He
doesn't wear a black costume with a cape and pointy ears.
He hasn't scored the winning touchdown or shot a three -
pointer at the buzzer to win the championship. My Hero
isn't any of those things.
My Hero has scarred and callused hands from years of hard
work. His hair is gray from worrying if he was going to
have enough money to last another year. His voice is deep
and scratchy from the many stories he told. My Hero is all
of these things.
My Hero sat with me when I was scared late at night. He was
by my side when I woke up from burn surgery. He comforted
me when I had to take cold baths cause my fever was too high.
My Hero was all these things.
My Hero has loved his wife for almost thirty years now. He
made sure that I knew the difference between right and
wrong. He taught me how to work hard and the importance of
honesty. My Hero has done all these things.
My Hero has earned my love and respect. No one else could
take his place cause my Hero is my Dad.
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Comments about this poem (My Hero by Tim Meister )
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