Your limbs
spill from silken sheets
shimmering in the glimmer
of morning squeezing between
window slats,
striping you like a convict,
but I am your prisoner.
Your lips
curl as you murmur,
conversing with lovers
in your dreams,
Your hips
burrow deeply
on the rhythm of your sighs
and I long to lie beside you,
lingering in the light,
but as dawn drives day
so must I away.
.
.
An aubade is a French leaving poem. It’s the opposite of a serenade, and is the song of a lover leaving his beloved in the morning. I’d never heard of the form before, and on the same day, I discovered it by accident (when I looked up a French lingerie company by the name and the definition came up) I found an aubade in the WordPress poetry feed. Quite a coincidence! Here is my first one. I should add, that I am unlikely to ever write one from experience, since generally I’m going to bed at dawn, while my husband is getting up! 😉
