Aubade Poem by Malcolm Evison

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.


(26 October 2006)