Once we had a lap
That disappeared as we stood
Where has it gone to?

Likewise these fists disappear
Once the fingers are unclenched

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on February 3, 2019, in Wee Poems and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Love this, Ben, thanks!

    Liked by 1 person

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