I’ve had the closing lines of Michael Rosen’s Sad Book (“And candles. There must be candles.”) running through my head for a few days now, ever since I went out to buy candles for a friend’s birthday cake.
“And candles,” I just thought to the dawn sky. “There must be candles.”
“And candles,” I muttered to the disappearing sun yesterday evening. “There must be candles.”
“And candles,” I said when the birthday cake came out into the dark of the living room. “There must be candles.”
Every little bit of light. Every celebration. Every flicker of joy. Every flame of love. Let it stand in defiance of darkness. There must be candles.

Reactions: 48
Comments: 5

Original Post