He rises with the dawn
on ordinary mornings,
the bright and constant
light of day
on which you can
rely.
An unassuming glow
in ordinary skies,
a silent, steady
comfort
to chase away
the cold.
A daily arc of light,
his ordinary rays
extend beyond his own,
a first responding
hero.
He pierces clouds
of smoke
and risks the flames
with fire,
gives all he has to give,
and asks for nothing
in return.
And when the day
is done,
he sets but never leaves,
lending the moon
his light
each ordinary night.
Those bedtime story
heroes,
adorned with magic capes,
are simply ordinary
next to stars
who tell their tales.
For I have known
a sun
that's never failed
to rise,
an endless, steadfast
light
in my ordinary life.
My hero lives
and breathes,
he walks on solid ground,
a simple man
who's everything
to me
but ordinary.
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