why did i dream of you last night?
now morning is pushing back hair with grey light
memories strike home, like slaps in the face;
raised on elbow, i stare at the pale fog
beyond the window.
so many things i had thought forgotten
return to my mind with stranger pain:
- like letters that arrive addressed to someone
who left the house so many years ago.
-- philip larkin
-- michelle tea, the chelsea whistle
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