We've done the aubade, and Wilbur, so I thought I'd combine them and turn it into a challenge.
In Richard Wilbur's "Late Aubade," the morning departure of a lover has already been staved off. It's just a matter of how long he can sustain the post-coital languor. Love has a lot in common with being lazy -- the bed is equally important to both.
I thought I'd try to write my own aubade -- since Wilbur's started late, I thought I'd start mine early, just before waking up. There's no convincing a lover to stay here when in a sense she's already left -- with the darkness, with the dream, with the end of a romantic story; especially if, unlike Wilbur's mistress, her loyalties lie with the sun!
So my attempt follows; if you accept the challenge, please post your own in the comments (or a link to it on your blog)!
Now I feel the intrusion of the sun,
And your backwards glance against the glare
I was dreaming about the movies,
The projector beaming at the wall
We hold hands before the fire,
The drums beat for the entranced wood
We do our lines for the moon and crickets,
And kiss in closeup against the sky
We dance on the lawn,
And laughing, get some steps wrong
The celluloid burns a little and peels your face
Which I try to press back down
But time staggers on the wheel
In undone loops, darkness settles in
Now there's just your warmth, and I realize
We cannot see what we are
Fleeing through the night-rain without looking back,
Under a rising umbrella
To my car, where the pistons hum
And keep the world going, around us
The day you went back there,
I chased you through the void
The flames chanting at my back,
I found you in a bright-empty room
Standing at attention before the sun,
Turning from a wall of undressed window
To say get up, sleepyhead,
The day has just begun
The Poetry Friday roundup is at writer2b's Findings.