Talking in Bed
by Philip Larkin

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 about 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.