Saturday, March 6, 2010

Remember those quiet evenings

When we used to sit
after the dinner hour, after the kitchen was clean.
Curled up on a lap
was a favorite cat.
The fire crackled in the winter
over the strains of the opening tunes
of our favorite show;
over the protesting mews
of that cat.

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About Me

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California
Writer, philosopher, introvert, misanthrope, baby-crazy; general mash-up of the human experience just trying to get by with the tools God gave me.