Home is so Sad  
by Philip Larkin 

Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to [bad word] of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so, 
Having no heart to put aside the theft 

And turn again to what it started as, 
joyous shot at how things ought to be, 
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery. 
The music in the piano stool. That vase.