I had a dream that there appeared to me
a little girl whose hands I touched were silk.
Her tender eyes belied the purity
of angels, and her skin was white as milk.
She said, “In your despair, I heard your call
for comfort, which I’ve come to bring to you.
My hands do not look strong, for they are small,
but used in prayer, there’s much that they can do.”
Before me, in the darkness of that night,
with palms upturned, she gently closed her eyes,
and as she prayed, I saw a stream of light
shine down with myriads of butterflies.
I woke most splendidly refreshed in bed
to see a monarch flutter near my head.
Written 12/20/13 by Andrea Dietrich
and Based on Visual #7 in nette onclaud's WITH THESE HANDS Contest