About the poet
Andrew Motion (b.1952) read English at Oxford University where he won the Newdigate Prize and...
When I do count the clock that tells the time
The clocks change, and there’s suddenly the shock
of walking home in darkness, seeing lights
inside the windows, thinking Who lives there?
Whose books are those? Whose ornaments? Who chose
that purple orchid flowering on that shelf?
And then remembering or better still
accepting: me, I live there, me with you –
and yes of course my key fits in the lock.
At which another suddenly: the sound
of you already back and practicing.
I recognise it. Brahms; Two Rhapsodies;
the notes that stayed invisible all day
sweep in like birds through newly-blackened air
and land in time to sing before they sleep.
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