[Intro, quiet afternoon, a cup set down on wood, unhurried] I made the tea and then forgot to drink it and sat down with it anyway [Verse 1, close and conversational, noticing rather than explaining] the steam comes up in a thin slow line and leans a little toward the window outside the leaves are almost finished and the light is already thinking of leaving I hold the cup with both hands not for the taste, just for the warmth there is nothing on the list for this hour or if there is, it can wait in the other room [Verse 2, same restraint, the cooling turning into a gentle clock] the line of steam gets shorter then it comes and goes in small breaths then only the cup is warm then only the place where my hands were I could get up and make another I could call this hour a waste but I watched the whole of it happen and that feels like the opposite [Bridge, instruments thin out, fiddle and room tone only, one held breath] nobody is waiting on this hour it does not have to turn into anything it only has to pass and I only have to be here while it does [Chorus, warm and wide, opening gently, never lifting into volume] so let it go cold, let it go quiet let the afternoon lean into the dark I was here for all of it, the warm and the cooling and nothing was lost by staying [Outro, gentle resolution, the cup rinsed and set down, full stop ending] I drink the last of it cold and it is fine, it is still tea I rinse the cup and leave it upside down for the next slow afternoon
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