Indoors with my friend

Spending time indoors with Alice was as good as out;
we played Scrabble,
placed roses in vases,
watched good little-known films,
held treasures
(as memories always are)
in her bedroom,

We prepared dinners
and breakfasts
and lunches
(in between which I ate copious olives
because her mum's olives are the BEST)
And don't even start me
on her homemade ginger pop!
We embarked on my next quilting project
Washing, cutting, pressing, sewing, trimming, pressing again,
It is so good to sew with another;
in between stitches and triangles
and consuming a whole dining room with fabric and thread
we talked and laughed
and listened to her Grandma's book tapes

We shared a room every night,
And while I naively planned to get a week of wonderful long sleep,
we stayed up till 2 or 3 each morning
making sense of the world
of faith, and love

And every night before turning off the light we wrote a poem,
this was mine on January 4th:

Well. So,
a day of no snakes
but sky and grey gums
and stars.
I felt myself
letting fly
memories,
like balloons into the wide blue.
My hands now free
for new ones.
Today was like that;
memories of
stepping on sticks,
breathing against the window pane,
gingery noses.
Looking into the heart
of a beauty
and knowing her a little better.
A day of fierce-eyed cows,
dusty toes,
and the stars. Oh the stars