I don't know why it's taken me so long.
There are the obvious things to love.
P.S. I Love You.
If I Ever Leave This World Alive.
And of course, Conan O'Brien.
But it's to England, I've always dreamed.
Never across that sea.
I'm reading this book.
A romance novel.
By an author I would have never picked up.
(Because of that little bit of snobbery in me.)
If I hadn't heard from someone very close to me.
While playing Deserted Island.
That this was the book she'd take with her.
Her favorite book.
Of all books.
With a definitive statement like that.
I had to give it a try, now didn't I?
So I'm reading the book.
And it's based in Ireland.
And I'm falling in love with each new character.
More and more.
And in love with the hills and the fields of such a wild and lush land.
Of such jagged and heartbreaking cliffs.
Of the community cramped inside music filled pubs.
And I came across this Irish ballad as I was reading.
"I know my love by his way of walking.
And I know my love by his way of talking."
I know my love.
Which book I'll have you read aloud to me.
If ever stranded on that deserted island.