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An Aubade Dreams of Snow
by Ambika Talwar

but loving is this
an aubade is just this
light flying into your
awakeness-fused gritty eyes
still waking

like you do on wintry days
snail caught between worlds
tenderly traces designs
on lettuce leaf

its slowness makes
silver trails while sky
empty of trees shyly turns away
to let sun hum
a new familiar chorus

ocean three miles away
crashes and freeway runs
closer than a Sunday crossword
languages are lost
melange of tender trivia

This aubade whose light
tickles your desires makes you curl
so you slip away between
cuddled white-gold sheets

your hair wildly awry
between scents
it dreams of snow—
how she weaves purity
carpet of bluish footfalls
for a morning walk

your coffee will never
get cold—she awaits
embrace of your warm palms


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