You linger in that poem,
Although the scattered fall
At hand of lukewarm circles –
No rhymes and no allusions –
Keeps striking at my wall.

You linger in wet breathings.
Like soil in the spring times
In curves of hidden path,
Rejected by the image,
You splash away in lines.

You linger young in summer.
When I slip in your malm,
You plant your secret rhythms
That aren't keen on forms
Into my sheltered calm.

You linger stripped in whiteness
As essence flows away,
And frozen in my garden,
Like fresh-grown birches saplings,
You stay. In me. You stay.

Aleksandra Kocmut - Kerstin