[Intro, quiet room tone, a cold window, unhurried] the first cold night came without a warning so I went to the cupboard for the heavy one [Verse 1, close and conversational, noticing rather than explaining] it still smells a little of last winter of the closed-up dark it waited in I shake it out across the bed and the air goes soft around it the last time I folded this away I did not know what the year would hold I put it on the top shelf anyway as if I already trusted I would need it [Verse 2, same restraint, the weight turning into a quiet pride] and here I am, a whole round later some of it easy, some of it not the same hands pulling up the same corner a little different underneath it is heavier than I remembered or maybe I am only more tired either way it holds me down gently the way you hold a page you want to keep [Bridge, instruments thin out, low harp and room tone only, one held breath] nobody hands you anything for getting through a year no one says well done for still being here so I will say it quietly to myself under the weight of last year's blanket [Chorus, warm and wide, opening gently, never lifting into volume] let the cold stay on the other side of the glass I made it back to this the same warm corner of the same small night and I let myself be a little glad of that [Outro, gentle resolution, the light going off, full stop ending] next spring I will fold it up again and put it back on the top shelf not knowing what the year will hold and trusting it anyway
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