As a little girl
She was told that one day
When she was much older and retired
She would have time to read
All the time she wanted

But she reckoned
That even if she started young
And read all the time
And lived to be old
It wouldn’t be enough time

But she tried it anyway

And read as a girl on nights she felt scared
And read as a young woman to feel and to grow
She read as a mother to her young children
And continued to find both new and old books to read

She was never confined in reading
Never yelled at
Never told she wasn’t good enough
Never felt inadequate
Always just immersed

And now her children’s children are having children
And still she reads
As they all read
Somehow she passed on this solitary activity
To those she loves and who love her

Reading is not “easy”

But nothing in life that matters
Ever is