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Echoes on the Porch Light by Jena

SongGPT
Echoes on the Porch Light by Jena - Folk music cover art

Echoes on the Porch Light

Folk

0:004:21
Lyrics
Description
The porch light hums above a winter coat, Steam fogs the window of the coffee shop across the road.
Your coat on the chair, a coffee-stained map at my feet, A train whistle shivers down the line, the night tastes like street heat.
Colors fold into the lamplight's gold, A hundred small reflections of the times we've told.
The floorboard remembers every step we've kept, And even in the cold your laugh still finds my breath.
Your echo drums a rhythm in my chest, Pulls the nightlight tight into the west.
Keep me close when the cold takes the wind, This light we built won't let us sink.
Your hands on the map, tracing roads with a steady thumb, The ink's worn thin where we've circled places we've come from.
A busker plays a fiddle that smells of rust and rain, We trade the world for a phrase, a promise stitched to a name.
Colors bend the winter glass, refracts our truth, You fold the map and tuck the memory to suit.
There's a small crooked smile I didn't notice before, And the house feels like a harbor when your shadow hits the door.
Your echo drums a rhythm in my chest, Now louder like a lighthouse after the test.
It keeps the rooms warm when the windows rattle thin, We hold the seams together, stitch by stubborn stitch.
I almost left that November night, suitcase like a moon.
The station lights were brittle and my promises came too soon.
You stood in the doorway counting cigarette burns on the sill, Said if you go, bring back the map, if you stay, bring back the will.
I learned the weight of wanting, learned the debt of every mile, I learned how to forgive the tremor in my own exile.
Your echo drums a rhythm in my chest, It keeps the dark from swallowing the rest.
Hold me steady when the world begins to spin, This porch light keeps us honest, keeps the story in.
We trace the coffee ring where our plans begin to bend, Close the map, lock the door and start again.
The porch light hums and in its small stubborn glow, Your echo drums a rhythm I finally know.
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