Tuesday, 26 October 2010
Heroines
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
Comments
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Beautiful! I loved your final line best.
Posted by: Marcia Mayo | Tuesday, 26 October 2010 at 06:06 AM
Ann - Poor snake; wonderful poem! - Sandy
Posted by: Sandy | Tuesday, 26 October 2010 at 06:46 AM
Loved it. Yes, I think Moms are really heroines.
Posted by: Mary B Summerlin | Tuesday, 26 October 2010 at 08:22 AM
A perfect picture in perfect poetry.
Posted by: Auntann | Wednesday, 27 October 2010 at 11:48 AM