Reverberant anachronism
Strains of Tin Pan Alley lyricism
Played as through a 1940’s radio
(Twixt flashes on the fascist overthrow)
Before you were alive or even thought
Another world, a distant era caught
Between the seasons we might call our lives
While one young set of eyes somehow connives
To make it to a world of ice and snow
For whom old music conjures up no
Long ago
The Seasons We Might Call Our Lives

Do you really mean connives and not contrives? Can young eyes connive? Or how young are these folks?
Or perhaps I am being too complicated and you are just talking about the cat!
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I was talking about the cat.
🐱
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purrfect then.
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