Days
~ Philip Larkin ~

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?

 

***

 

Time's passing.  The days are busy but I'll look back wonder what I did. Mostly it seems to be  fetching and carrying children and keeping house in between trudging off to work.  I'd love to loll around here more but it's simply not been possible.  Dashing off  by 7.45 am to snare the elusive car park, skidding into the school pick-up line late, quickly changing gears before the next appointment.  It's not been the most sane year.  Too much on.  Days. Where do they go?