No, not the kind that leaps tall buildings at a single bound
or stops a runaway train . . .
But the kind that turns people to rabbits
Clouds to rainbows of warm sun-lit rain.
With a wave of her hand a wink of her eye
giggle, giggle, giggle
the saddest of all kids can take off and fly.
Pooooof; they never ask why-no need, they know
My latest poem for Walaa and women of siege every where.