I Dreamed of You

I woke on the edge of dawn,
roused by a blackbird’s song
in the first pink flush.
Shadow-lit and milky-grey
in the cosy embrace of blankets
and the fug of morning breath,

I remembered dreaming of you
and was reminded of your death.

I clung to the edge of dawn.
A sparkling new day had arrived,
the cold, refreshing scent
of dew-soaked grass wafted
through the open window.
Aurora cleared foggy sight

from eyes once imbued
with stars and moonlight.

I began to lose my grip on dawn.
Morning crept on feline feet,
gentle and velvety, clambered
over the garden gate
and danced between the trees,
her light translucent glass,

leaving dewy footprints
where she passed.

I lost the haziness of dawn
and found myself awake
on another July morning,
with a familiar trepidation
like a bird fluttering in my chest.
‘It’s the fifth,’ I heard you say

before your ghost vanished,
and I whispered, ‘Happy birthday.’

Kim M. Russell, 11th July 2024

Image by Anton Sobotyak on Unsplash

It’s Thursday and we are Meeting the Bar at the dVerse Poets Pub, with Laura, our host, who says that, after the summer break, ‘we’re beginning again, beginning afresh, like a new dawn’.

She gives us examples of some of the many poems that have first light as their subject, by poets such as Campbell McGrath, Louise Glück and Jo Bang.

Today we are writing in the poetry style of the A L’Arora, a form created by Laura Lamarca, which consists of four or more stanzas, with eight lines per stanza, which can split with a line break after six, has rhyme scheme of a, b, c, d, e, F g, F rhyme scheme, and no syllable count per line.

Our subject is dawn, since Lamarca’s A L’Arora derives from ’aurora’, which is Italian for ‘dawn’. We can write about the dawn literally, metaphorically, objectively, personally or however it strikes us, or we can write of dawn as a verb (dawns/dawning), a slow or sudden realization.

32 thoughts on “I Dreamed of You”

  1. you nailed  A L’Arora with this one – I like how you chose to split the 6/8 and gave the poem couplets. The contrast with dawn and death very profound and such lovely descriptions

    “Morning crept on feline feet,
    gentle and velvety, clambered
    over the garden gate”

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  2. So lovely, Kim, and so poignant in remembrance. I loved the personification of morning as a cat:

    Morning crept on feline feet,
    gentle and velvety, clambered
    over the garden gate
    and danced between the trees,
    her light translucent glass    ,

    leaving dewy footprints
    where she passed.

    Such a brilliant and memorable image.

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  3. Kim this is moving and touching part:

    I remembered dreaming of you
    and was reminded of your death.

    I also love the visual of this part: Morning crept on feline feet.

    Hugs to you regarding your mum’s birthday and death anniversary.

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  7. Such a poignant poem of remembrance, Kim, and the apostrophes you stage though rhyme (breath/death, heard you say/happy birthday) bear the weight of your beloved so beautifully. Thanks very much for sharing.

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  10. This is indeed beautiful, Kim. Knowing a little of background, from what you’ve shared recently, I can feel especally the poignancy of the last stanza, and send you tender comfort.

    Yet for sheer descriptive resonance, my favourite stanza has to be the third, including

    Morning crept on feline feet,
    gentle and velvety, clambered
    over the garden gate
    and danced between the trees,
    her light translucent glass

    …

    and that light translucent glass has a particular hue which for me rests (or yes, dances) in the realm of pale moss agate … and each of us perhaps see her differently …

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