In a dim-lit alley, where shadows play their game, A wizened man and alley cat, not quite the same.

He, with wisdom etched in lines so fine,
She, with whiskers twitching, tales of nighttime.

"Ah, feline," quoth he, "your stealth and grace, Yet your nights are spent in this grimy place."

She eyed him with a flick of disdain,
"Pardon me, sir, are you not too inane?"

"But see," he mused, "we share a certain plight, You chase your dreams in the shroud of...