
I have a Superman graphic t-shirt in my closet It’s hung there for years unworn The red and yellow hasn’t faded on pace with my dreams I feel vulgar wearing it Like I’m committing a crime against the cosmos In fact I refuse to wear it Even though my boys smile when I pose— They’re still young, you see, And undimmed by failure They don’t know yet that it's stolen valor to wear his uniform Unless— I put on the Man not the shirt And walk into the living room Where my boys expectantly wait to see who And whose Daddy is.
I really identify with this poem - and you were the "boys" in the poem. Thanks for opening your mind and heart to others via substack. I love you!