aubade
Learn more about other poetry terms
The rooster's crow warns me that dawn has comeMy sleepy eyes resist my need to riseI blindly reach for her but she is goneThen hear a sound that much to my surpriseReveals she hasn't left but still is near
Papers stuffed neatly into their respective folders,
Textbook clenched tightly against my side,
I turn to face the dawn.
My mother stands against the light.
City buildings lean forward to listen,
but they cannot hear the whispered
nothings you tossed around the night
before--mi mariposa, mi pajarito, but
never simply beautiful. Taxis beep,
