Groping back to bed after a piss <br />I part the thick curtains, and am startled by <br />The rapid clouds, the moon's cleanliness. <br /> <br />Four o'clock: wedge-shaped gardens lie <br />Under a cavernous, a wind-pierced sky. <br />There's something laughable about this, <br /> <br />The way the moon dashes through the clouds that blow <br />Loosely as cannon-smoke to stand apart <br />(Stone-coloured light sharpening the roofs below) <br /> <br />High and preposterous and separate-- <br />Lozenge of love! Medallion of art! <br />O wolves of memory! Immensements! No, <br /> <br />One shivers slightly, looking up there. <br />The hardness and the brightness and the plain <br />far-reaching singleness of that wide stare <br /> <br />Is a reminder of the strength and pain <br />Of being young; that it can't come again, <br />But is for others undiminished somewhere.<br /><br />Philip Larkin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sad-steps/
