I

If dawn were a human
and walked over the earth
every morning
guiding the blanket of day in its path,
would he
one day
decide on a wrong turn and
walk through my street
by my window
and peep through to see if I’m there?


II

If dawn were a knocker-upper
and I his client;
in the morning
would he summon the sun
to rise over me
and rouse me from my sleep?
And
when I open the window for him
nod in contentment before turning
away with a starling smile
to set forth on his mission?


III

If dawn were a breeze
and my bedroom window open,
would he
if I’m still sleeping
sweep through my little space
with swift morning freshness
stroke my cheek with a cool
gentle finger
and leave again after putting
a golden kiss
on my forehead?


IV

If dawn were an artist
and the air
his canvas,
would he colour the skies
with his brush
to paint me
a picture of the passion he has
for me?
Or shape the clouds
tenderly
with his fingers,
each one
to resemble them to a drop
of the ardency he possesses
for me?


V

If dawn were a little bird
and I his human friend;
each morning,
would he perch at my Western window
to sing me awake,
chirping
tweeting
his sweetest notes
in a love song he wrote
for me?