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The Real Superman
The Real Superman
"It's slip disc."
the doctor said.
I was shocked,
my face cold.
He lied on the bed,
with something so severe;
reading a book,
like nothing happened ever.
"Bring my jersey,"
he said with style,
I stood astounded
in that little while.
Of course, I told him,
not to play that day;
he wasn't fine,
he wouldn't listen to me anyway.
Holding his bat,
he we
nt out of the door,
continued to walk,
till I let out a roar.
He didn't obey,
he never does.
My mind boggled,
absorbing all that fuss.
He broke his own record,
won the match.
The zeal in his eyes
was beyond my catch.
"Bravo!" I cheered
as he popped open his phone;
"I want an appointment at 5", he chirped.
And I saw the real Superman under the cantaloupe sun.
