I’m going to be a superhero someday.

The kind that is pretty normal looking,
that likes to grow vegetables her back yard
and listen to country music
and kiss her babies on the head before they go to sleep.

The kind that likes to curl up under her favorite blanket
with a good book
and a cup of hot cocoa with three or four marshmallows mixed inside.

The kind that still gets butterflies
when her love gives that smile
or kisses her nose
for no reason but that he loves her.

I’ll be a secret superhero.

I will fight off foes – secretly -
and always be armed and ready
to bandage up knees and elbows
and make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
and search for pirate treasure
and paint walls turquoise (or maybe green).

I will have a secret lair,
filled with all sorts of things
like crayons and skip ropes
and found dolls and teddy bears
and blankets and extra buttons
and lots . . .
. . . and lots . . .
. . . . . and lots of hugs and kisses.

And someday? I might even save the world.

. . . or, close enough.

Finѐ