my hero

when the greatest problem facing me is lack-lustre floors,
my children lie tucked in their beds,
and thursday waits beside the stairs with a good-night kiss,

while all around you, the floor rises up to swallow your hope,
your child lies in her bed, sleeping and quietly trusting,
and tomorrow looms fierce and fearful and oh-so-tiring,

while we talk together of plans
and of pain, of love
and of remorse,

i don't know what to do
but pray that somehow,
i can be your hero, too.