Time, time, time
and nothing
it all goes so fast anymore, not like when I was a kid, no, when a summer stretched for eternity.
I try to write, but my fat black cat jumps up and softly pads at me, and then nips my feet. She should come first, of course!
So, I keep pausing, and looking at her.
Time, that’s the thing, and time is not to find, but to make, so I will make the time I should for my little lady cat.