Cinnamon Sleeves

[Intro]
[Verse]
November rain is tapping light
Against the glass in fading white
I find the page with edges torn
Where every single crease is worn
Your handwriting is small and neat
To make the bitter taste so sweet
[Chorus]
It’s cinnamon in my cardigan sleeves
The quiet way a memory breathes
A smudge of flour on the ink
Before I even have to think
You’re standing here inside the room
Dispelling all the winter gloom
[Verse]
The ceramic mug is chipped and old
A little warmth against the cold
The steam is curling like a ghost
The things I think I miss the most
Are salt and sugar, measured slow
In ways that only you would know
[Pre-Chorus]
The upright bass begins to hum
Like heartbeats when the shadows come
I’m grateful for the mess we made
In kitchens where the sunlight played
[Chorus]
It’s cinnamon in my cardigan sleeves
The quiet way a memory breathes
A smudge of flour on the ink
Before I even have to think
You’re standing here inside the room
Dispelling all the winter gloom
[Bridge]
The felt piano hits a chord
A feeling I cannot afford
To lose within the gray and grit
So I will keep on stirring it
The harmonium is breathing low
Reminding me to let it go
But keep the taste upon my tongue
The songs that we have always sung
[Verse]
The windowpane is streaked with gray
The afternoon just slips away
I fold the paper back in place
And feel the ghost of your embrace
The oven timer starts to ring
A tiny, silver, hollow thing
[Chorus]
It’s cinnamon in my cardigan sleeves
The quiet way a memory breathes
A smudge of flour on the ink
Before I even have to think
You’re standing here inside the room
Dispelling all the winter gloom
[Outro]