Wrapped futilely <br />in the realm of beauty sleep – <br />dawn rarely dawns on me. <br /> <br />Long after the appointed hour, <br />the room is thunder-black - <br />draw back the curtains. <br /> <br />The sky has lost <br />its breathing space – <br />choked by the clouds, <br /> <br />voluptuously hanging <br />in their mourning drapes – <br />symbolic of a troubled world. <br /> <br />I sigh, and seek <br />the duvet’s solace – <br /> <br />for me the day <br />has not yet quite begun. <br /> <br /> <br /> (26 October 2006)<br /><br />Malcolm Evison<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/aubade-10/
