The Superhero of the Past

Tick-tock!

The superhero of the past stands tall and proud for the last time,

His hand raised in a silent farewell.

Only now does anyone realise his true age,

Only now can anyone tell,

With his lifeless white hair, broad beard and wrinkles,

And his bent back, twisted skin and sharp cough.

 

Tick-tock!

He has saved the world hundreds of times,

And defeated countless villains.

Now all that the days of championship have left

Are his piercing blue eyes,

So sane, so bright, so penetrating;

They will always see everything.

 

Tick-tock!

He can be compared to a grandfather clock,

Majestic, reliable, respected.

Yet as the clock stands, solid and firm,

It could stop any moment, disconnected,

For nothing and no one is permanent;

Not even the hero of heroes.

 

Tick-tock!

And as time goes on even after the clock,

And life moves on in generations,

And moments will not pause for a dying man,

The superhero of the past stands tall and proud for the last time,

His hand raised in a silent farewell:

He is ready to give way to the heroes of the future.

The End

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