© Copyright 2026 - Peter PHIR! The kettle hums a low, wood-grain song Steam curls up against the window pane You pull your wool sweater closer still Watching the glass blur with sudden rain The floorboard groans beneath a heavy step Coffee cooling in a chipped clay mug I trace the map of lines across your palm While the radiator sighs a gentle tug Oh, the hum of the tires on the wet pavement Far off, a secret kept by the dark We are drifting on a quiet tide Holding to the edges, finding the spark It opens up, this hollow, waiting space Where the melody falls in a soft embrace The clock on the mantle marks a slow time Measured in dust motes dancing in the light Your voice is a low bridge across the room Carrying the weight of a long, tired night The keys of the piano hold a cool touch Felt hammers muffled in a velvet prayer We don't need to fill the corners up Just leave the quiet hanging in the air Oh, the hum of the tires on the wet pavement Far off, a secret kept by the dark We are drifting on a quiet tide Holding to the edges, finding the spark It opens up, this hollow, waiting space Where the melody falls in a soft embrace Just the rain on the glass Just the sound of the street Everything slowing down Everything complete © Copyright 2026 - Peter PHIR!
