And Maybe Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt

this spring, had the colour of purple,
and your dark mop of hair.
passed more quickly,
than it is possible, were to expect.

the purple giddiness
ended when,
first frost set.
in then a warmth was missing.

you counted on the thaw.
but was too late.
not everything repeats, itself
sometimes, we must much lose,

in order to start
understanding everything
what is straight
not loutish.

when you are tilting writing
small letters on the large sheet of paper,
whether you have sensing, that it was just
a purpose?

look two known words.
up if you carry them for ages,
you lost...
but maybe not entirely.

and what's more
for you
I am leaving it for solace
and as hope...