Red Tulip

My sister died a month ago after an illness that slowly spread through her body. Today is her funeral committal which I will join courtesy of Zoom. These are strange times which disrupt very aspect of our lives and challenge our emotions. I read the poem below at my father's funeral which was over 30 years ago and seems even more poignant today.

Days
BY 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?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor   
In their long coats
Running over the fields.