A friend

loved a book
(not such an easy read)

wrapped it around herself
kept it warm near  her heart
which was not far from  her backbone

When she gave you that book,
it was as if she’d given you the shirt off her back
She said: Fiction is not a hard-and-fast science

You find that you are not thinking so much,
        have stopped comparing this summer with last summer,
        have found out that simply being outside
        is a room of your own

Go ahead and read at breakfast   
Lean the book against the cafetiere
You’re going to finish this book in a few days,
                        the best kind of blur
in a simpler world

Candyce Lange

If you have any thoughts about this poem, Candyce Lange would be pleased to hear them