Two thirds of a Sestina for Olive Slater

She would hang her jumpers on the line
On the one unbreakable day of summer
Eyeballing her was Basil the tabby cat
I walked to the back green from my top floor flat
Knowing that Olive Slater was here and well...
Memories of my long lost Scottish friend.

These things defining Olive my old friend...
She was always there, constant in winter and summer
Her stance on the landing talking, her love for the cat
He vigour, though her jumpers and her raincoat were flat
Colours, blues and browns she laundered well,
Outspoken too, she laid it on the line.

Kindhearted but I knew to draw the line
And let her say her bit; she was the elder friend
'Your daffodils did good outside the flat
Till Charlene picked them for her mum that summer
Mind you, your crocuses didn't do so well
Basil, come here now - you don't love that cat.'

She talked me into giving her the cat
That time she cared for him when I wasn't well
It all went wrong for me that Scottish summer
I lost the plot and couldn't toe the line
And she was one of few who stayed a friend
When I came down and everything fell flat.

Winter and summer I recall my flat
And pen a line, and always will think well
Of Basil the cat and Olive my good old friend.