By degrees sunlight weaves
Through grey, fan-swept curtains
Wrapping us in morning
Adorning our shoulders
With soothing sunray sheets
warming our sleepy cheeks

Those weighted light blankets
Hold our eyelids heavy
And our arms intertwined
Our breath intermingles
With bird songs conspiring
To rest our tired minds

Bleary eyed and red cheeked
We awake to morning
As afternoon begins
Rubbing sleep from our eyes
In parallel patterns
Amid shared, sleepy grins

I set tired feet down
Amid clothing mountains
Arms stretched to the ceiling
Feeling hands on my back
Calling me back to bed
To rest until evening

Would I could waste my day
Hiding away with you
Behind fan-swept curtains
But I have things to do –
so many things to do
Of this I am certain

Jeans donned, socks recovered
From our evening clutter
I face the daunting door
You call me back once more
Yawning my name through sheets
Just as the door opens

Pulled in two directions –
Caught between the world
And the sound of your voice
I kiss your cheeks goodbye
And face the winter air
Already regretting my choice

Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

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I wrote this poem based on the following prompt from pw.org!

Aubade – 3.9.21 – “In this city / each door I cross / in search of your room / grows darker / than the sky,” writes Aldo Amparán in “Aubade at the City of Change,” published in the Academy of American Poets’ Poem-a-Day series. In The Essential Poet’s Glossary by Edward Hirsch, an aubade is defined as a poem or song for the dawn expressing the regret of parting lovers at daybreak that dates back to Europe at the end of the twelfth century. In Amparán’s poem, he uses the form to meditate on the mourning of a loved one and conjures images of light to illustrate how loss can leave one feeling “suspended in time” even as the world continues to shift and change. This week, write an aubade.