In all is all we have tonight where seven for seven gather in a smoky apartment weaving in and out of conversations. In all is all we speak tonight where dusty photographs are passed around for us and for them we have come a long way.
The sound of a purring cat rubs against my leg and nibbles my toe if I continue to go about my business. The sound follows me into the living room and waits for a lap to sit down.
Too long has gone and it is evident that I have been slacking. No more of that now.