An Aubade: A Visit to the Museum
I stand alone
among the Pre-Raphaelites,
before the Romeo and Juliet.
Maddox Brown paints the
lovers’ departure already scribed
by the Bard.
It is the lovers’ sweet lasting lament, and yes,
I see it is the lark, morning’s messenger
painted here. This immortalized departure
reminds me of you and our
when life’s intrusions refuse to
blanket us with darkness and the
down of soft dreams.
Does the dawn bless or break
their first argument?
When to part?
this thinly disguised parting
portioned with passion and deception,
is let go with longings that last.
It does not matter whether it is
nightingale or lark, or
who was right or wrong; or
whether it is fiction or life,
it only matters that all lovers
long for the length
of a quiet evening’s balm.
Like water that seeks its level,
my passion seeks its own capacity:
a warmth of comfort, a promised portion,
a reverie of thought so gentle that
all moments linger and fill
my aubade afternoon.
Then my museum visit
is cut short by time and memory.
I hurry home
to wait for you ‘til evening
when our new dawn
will yield nocturnal bliss.
Diamond State Branch, DE