i think i've grown another hand
it reaches further than it should
it ties my laces faster
than any other would
it cradles me to sound sleep when
trains outside are loud
it picks me flowers from the mountains
then drops me on a cloud
it writes me poetry and plays piano
then whipes the tears from dwelling eyes
its planted me the greenest garden
and stolen stars from darkened skies
my hand is brave and strong enough
to fight the demons in my dreams
it knows just how i like my eggs
and coffee with some cream
i let it be, for it is fleeting
the way it saves me from quick sand
and when it's gone, i'll turn to patience
to help me hold another hand
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