Then, Now
But then the heart of loneliness was light.
An attic patient for the haul I brought
back to sort beneath the lamp each night;

office-talk; who's marrying; or been caught
fiddling the petty cash; the rush and scent
of girls; upon grey city roofs at dusk

the starlings' melancholy loud descent.
Gathered, like chestnuts, rolled from the shed husk,
for my great novel, comic yet heartbreaking.

Till I grew beyond it. Relationships, career,
things take you out of yourself. Nowadays waking
alone's sole clouded luminary is fear,

its skies a pallor as when after snow
has fallen gives away the blanked terrain
all round. Of what has been and will remain
...