Aubade

21 March 2006
Tuesday, 11:42 AM

woken by the dawn
she traced a tender aubade
in last night’s dinner

the day she awoke
with an aubade on her lips
she knew she was cured

a timpani drives
the low rumble. the aubade
begins...He rises!

Suddenly aware
of the time of day. Too late
now for this aubade.

Lift your eyeless mask.
Let this morning sunshower,
Love, be my aubade.

Rain tapped its mournful
aubade on the glass. He woke
bleary eyed; alone.