At the top of the mountain,
Within the castle wall,
We find the convent,
Now a hotel.

We have put on
The habit of our friendship.
Quietly, we walk
At night,
Up and down
The cobbled streets
Of white stucco houses.

We talk of old boyfriends,
Great loves,
Crazy family stories,
Quintessential moments
Of our women’s lives.

The comfort
Of a friendship
Clothed
In a habit.