Cinnamon Sidewalk

Bare feet on the warm tile Coffee left a ring on yesterday's book The bass line found me through the window Before I even thought to look Something in the way the afternoon just Poured itself across the floor Hips already knew the answer To a question I stopped asking for Cinnamon from the pan on the counter Wooden spoon keeping easy time The sun's doing something to the curtains That I'd call golden if it needed a rhyme Something in the way the afternoon just Poured itself across the floor Hips already knew the answer To a question I stopped asking for Don't need a reason Just a rhythm and a reason to stay