Morning At Last: There in the Snow by Philip Larkin

Haven’t been sleeping right these past few days. My morning’s the night, my night’s the morning, or sometimes, the afternoon. I hardly make sense anymore, most of all to myself, but I suppose one is entitled to such period of madness.

Morning At Last: There in the Snow
Philip Larkin

Morning at last: there in the snow
Your small blunt footprints come and go.
Night has left no more to show,

Not the candle, the half-drunk wine,
Or touching joy; only this sign
Of your life walking into mine.

But when they vanish with the rain
What morning woke to will remain
Whether as happiness or pain.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s