The Sound of Coming Home

Reflective · Original lyrics · Fictional voice · Lyrics only

The key turns twice, the floor replies,
A coat falls soft against the chair.
The kettle starts its little climb,
And evening settles everywhere.

That is the sound of coming home,
Not a trumpet, not a song.
Just a room that holds the quiet,
And a place to set down what was long.

I change the cup, I move the lamp,
The room is never quite the same.
Still in the pause before the steam,
I hear something I need not name.

That is the sound of coming home,
Small enough to miss all day.
I will listen for a moment,
Before the evening slips away.

Original lyrics, with no audio recording for this piece yet.