Waking at dawn, a primal time,
little death, then the rise and shine.
Bellicose barking, blackbird alarms the
sun, who rips you from my arms.
Milk train rattles, postman swings,
The gate against the bin – again.
Eyes stay shut to daily trial,
Willing the darkness to stay - awhile.
Were you here, were you now,
did I feel you at all?
Your body inside me,
embrace like a shawl?
Breath on my neck?
Pulling me close,
‘gainst fear of losing
What I want the most.
You are the night , stolen to here,
kidnapped by dawn, a constant fear.
Dreams mislaid, to wake with dread, where
nothing is left but your heat in my bed.
(painting by Susan Strand)