I get up at six each morning
And feed the cat at eight
So when she wakes up at nine
That doesn't make me Superman
She's sitting upright at her desk
Until her head starts to spin again
She retreats back into bed and wonders
Does she live with Superman?
She hadn't the spoons to finish
So she reached for the knives
And when I then had to fix dinner
That doesn't make me Superman
She's been tired for very long
Some might call it chronic
That doesn't mean she's sad
But I will be her Superman
For as long as we're together