AUBADE (sans le soleil)
Wrapped futilely
in the realm of beauty sleep –
dawn rarely dawns on me.
Long after the appointed hour,
the room is thunder-black -
draw back the curtains.
The sky has lost
its breathing space –
choked by the clouds,
voluptuously hanging
in their mourning drapes –
symbolic of a troubled world.
I sigh, and seek
the duvet’s solace –
for me the day
has not yet quite begun.
Malcolm Evison
26 October 2006
1 comment:
Love how very descriptive this is - feels so familiar!
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