Wednesday, August 13, 2008

From Roshni to me. (7 days before she died)

 
Talking In Bed

Talking in bed ought to be easiest,
Lying together there goes back so far,
An emblem of two people being honest.
Yet more and more time passes silently.
Outside, the wind's incomplete unrest
Builds and disperses clouds in the sky,
And dark towns heap up on the horizon.
None of this cares for us. Nothing shows why
At this unique distance from isolation
It becomes still more difficult to find
Words at once true and kind,
Or not untrue and not unkind. 


Philip Larkin
 

5 comments:

handmaiden said...

How did she die?

uglygirl said...

in a train fire.

handmaiden said...

That is really terrible.I'm sorry to hear it.

I love reading your poems. I hope to see more of them.

If I were more articulate, I could tell you what I think is wonderful about them.
I can only say they always leave a vivid imprint on my mind.

Anonymous said...

is it the recent train accident

uglygirl said...

umm...yes.