A cozy little lot
Our own very spot
With doors and floors
My drawers and yours

There’s a tea ***
For the earl grey I bought
And a French press
For your coffee express

There’s an old stereo
Playing songs from the radio
Peonies hanging in glass jars
In a home we call ours

It’s warm here
I know it will disappear
But maybe if I just believe
I’ll never have to leave