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Tuesday, 26 October 2010


By Ann Favreau

At the fanciful age of nine
Wonder Woman was my heroine.
Dressed in shiny red and blue,
She had super powers to
Fight the evils of the world.

I thought that she was most unique
Until I saw my mother streak
With hoe in hand
And make a stand
Against a big black snake.

As I stood rooted in fear and dread,
She swung the hoe above her head.
Down it chopped!
The snake lay dead.

She knelt and crushed me to her breast,
My Heroine in a faded dress.

[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Instructions for submitting are here.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post


Beautiful! I loved your final line best.

Ann - Poor snake; wonderful poem! - Sandy

Loved it. Yes, I think Moms are really heroines.

A perfect picture in perfect poetry.

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