There is no word to call the bit
That we don’t know of one another:
The mind, the thoughts, the life unseen,
Unheard, the feelings.
Everything we guess about
and we don’t know off; pain.
The secret distance from the you to me
Seems shorter now the lights are dimmed,
And almost as in tune we breathe and talk and see.
The bit unknown, the private will, the smile
Behind the hand on which you rest your head,
All that.
There is no word to call it by its name and yet
It is what makes you you, me me.
No one the same.
Comments on: "That bit" (16)
Wow, that’s a beauty of a poem, typo or not. The 3rd stanza is a marvel, but the whole poem, magnificent!
Hi David, thank you very much!
This is very beautiful and true, Ina. ❤
Hi Cynthia, thank you very much ❤
This is wonderful Ina.
Hi Nico, thank you! I am glad you like it
Hereafter it shall be known as ‘the bit’. I got a bit, you got a bit, all God’s children got a bit.
We all got bitten. 🙂 Bits.
Mesmerizing narrative…
Thank you very much Michael!
Beautiful poem Ina, just lovely ❤️ Xxx
Hi Christine, thank you very much! ❤ L&H xxx
So beautiful, {{{Ina}}}. The unity of separateness. Love in all its layers and wholeness. Hugs and much love. XO ❤
Hi Diane, thank you very much! ❤ xxx
A wonderful collection of bits ❤
Thank you very much Jane! ❤