He leapt tall buildings in his mind,
This man of steel, so confined.
Years of struggle, years of pain.
Never showed; he never waned.
A quick change into a tuxedo,
A charming smile, a great libido.
Always talking of the cure,
Never denying it was near.
Playing well the morality game,
Research in stem cell's name.
He was my hero in the race,
A cure or death he had to face.
So when I see a bird or plane,
I'll think of him in sweet refrain.
Chris' cure will come some day,
I'll leave this chair and dance away.
Read War's End, the Novel
Photos Courtesy Christopher Reeve Home Page