The hand at the end of my sleeve
brings coffee to my lips
and should I get annoyed with you
it rests upon my hip,
it’s sometimes unfamiliar
with its fingers pointing out,
yet grabs the wheel when driving
and gets me there no doubt,
It combs my hair and ties my shoe
that I don’t trip on laces,
it scratches when I have an itch
in those hard to get at places,
It fluffs my pillow at end of day,
and holds my hand when praying,
but without a sleeve, cuz in the raw
never mind – that’s all I’m saying.
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