The Sand Hill Review http://www.sandhillreview.org 2005

Aubade

I awake unwilling to admit the time

or distance myself from your warmth.

The room is nothing more than the rise

and fall of your breathing. I slip out

of sheets into a cold hour, ready

myself to the traffic of my commute.

For long moments I watch and am lost,

as if I had never before seen you

sleeping, dreaming.

J. P. Dancing Bear