They entered and stood, stony and staid;
Nothing that’ll stir your heart as you moved
Punctual and fast in well-mannered calm,
Straight along tracks of Bakerloo line.
All with the newspapers flung open wide
Or tapped into headphones of exile of sorts:
Clusters of islands on move.
But there they had sat, her fingers in his
Even as he covered his eyes and sighed
As she looked on and pressed his hand tight;
Veins full of reciprocal tears.
Perhaps she had whispered, ‘Are you alright?
Perhaps a more consoling commonplace it was.
A long look followed their words and nods
And sighs that entwined their fingers more close,
Knotted into unflappable strength.
Stations and colours and people had passed,
There they had stayed unmoved.
Locked in my heart, I left them as such:
Arundel tomb in
by Waterloo Thames.
[The poem is inspired by a real life event framed by a poem and an image: the following are the links to the poem by Larkin and the image of the actual Arundel Tomb