Together

In Queensland heat
I press against the cool back
of Grandpa’s leather recliner to
gingerly trace a comb,
horizontally like raking sand
in a Zen garden of hair.

Pots clang and forks scrape
“screwed apple” being lovingly stewed.

A headband today-
The hairdresser tomorrow.
Grandma’s grey flattened curls to be
teased and tufted.

So tender, so close with
warm fragrant cuddles.
Yet
only at the end was my hand allowed
to caress your hair
against a white pillow
prettied with a delicate arch of
silver woven eyelets.