Mean Time, by Carol Ann Duffy
The clocks slid back an hour
and stole light from my life
as I walked through the wrong part of town,
mourning our love.
And, of course, unmendable rain
fell to the bleak streets
where I felt my heart gnaw
at all our mistakes.
If the darkening sky could lift
more than one hour from this day
there are words I would never have said
nor heard you say.
But we will be dead, as we know,
beyond all light.
These are the shortened days
and the endless nights.