The small brown bear is, as on most days

Left lying flat and haphazardly on the bed

Inanimate and not even propped up straight

To get a good look out the window

He is old, and worn

The pads on his feet all but gone

Someone promises to repair them but never does

And probably never will

But once the house is quiet

And he is left alone

He comes to life, gets up

And dusts himself off

Because at some point the night before

He had ended up on the floor

Stretches his arms out

Perhaps even exercises

Then—oh then he takes flight

And around and around the world he speeds

Supersonic and unstoppable

Fighting crime and protecting us all

He is a superhero

A bear without equal

A bear beyond compare

As the legend goes

They rally and cheer and chant

And praise his bravery

No one tosses him onto a chair

When the bed has to be made

Or stuffs him in a suitcase

A hero smashed head first into darkness

Until he is released

Only to be thrown on unknown beds and floors

My bear lives this secret life

Far from me and my ability to see

The illusion right in front of me

I come home, and hug him

And hope he saved the world today.