When we were children <br />we all knew what we wanted to be. <br />We wanted to follow <br />in the footstep of our favourite hero. <br />Our heroes came from noble stock <br />and stood above the rest. <br />We wanted to grow up like them <br />walking tall through the world. <br /> <br />At a certain age reality kicks in <br />and we become who we are. <br />It is a lot different than <br />those heroes we used to adore. <br />We learn that heroes <br />are not such a special breed. <br />We pass hundreds of them everyday <br />and we fail to recognise them. <br /> <br />They have no super powers <br />or logos on their chest. <br />They dress like you and me <br />in tee-shirt and jeans <br />and when the chips are down. <br />A stranger will save the day <br />and then when everything has died down <br />the stranger will be on their way. <br /> <br /> <br />21 September 2010<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/heroes-2-2/
