A refugee camp in Syria An eight year old with a sweater And a warm glass of tea
His superpower a smile That takes the warmth Of his Syrian sun And transports it into my bedroom On a cold Seattle night.
He does not hold back His wings spread he flies And arrives here Among friends.
In my mind We sit in a circle on chipped cement Pretending to be eight Pretending to be together Pretending to drink tea.
I plagiarize shamelessly If I had a superpower It would be to fly I would tell other children From around the world To come and play with me And my sisters and my friends And together sit in the sun Feel what it feels like