Morning At Last: There in the Snow

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.