(Philip Larkin, Poet Librarian (1922-1985)
What are days for?
Days are where we live
They come, they wake us
Time and time over
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?
Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.
Days
(Jane Simon, Psychiatrist Poet, after Philip Larkin and the Fall of Afghanistan and
the Earthquake and Storm in Haiti)
Days what are they for?
They come and go like earthquakes
Nay, not so, more somber
Like a tomb, not so either
More like hope against sorrow
Tomorrow may be better
But no one promises
Tragedy forever mixed with joy
We can't escape the ins and outs
The seriousness of it all
Few toys, a few games and toil
Toil forever mixed with joy.
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