To acquire the habit of reading is to construct for yourself a refuge from almost all the miseries of life.

W. Somerset Maugham

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These Apples
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A friend brought me flowers, she said they were lilacs,
But I've never been good with plants.
Her next presentation, a new dictionary,
She circled the word "romance".
 
So enthusiastic, a little bit drastic,
I shaved her name in my head.
As she beheld it, she said I misspelled it;
Need more be said?
 
These apples are delicious!
"As a matter of fact they are," she said
Can all this fruit be free?
 
She wrote me a letter as big as a phone book,
I've never been big on mail.
I sent her a postcard from somewhere near Lethbridge,
And wondered if it still went by rail.
 
I've never been frightened of being enlightened,
But some things can go too far.
Though sometimes I stammer and mix up my grammar,
You get what my meanings are.
 
These apples are delicious!
"As a matter of fact they are," she said
Can all this fruit be free?
 
I'm not trying to sing a love song, I'm trying to sing in tune.
I know I am sometimes headstrong,
Falling in love, catching fire, I want to be consumed.
Wondering will I ever tire, will I ever tire?
 
These apples are delicious!
"As a matter of fact they are," she said
Can all this fruit be free?