[Verse 1] Steam from our cups Fog on the glass Fields wrapped in white Time moving slow
Your wool socks on My old knit scarf Lokas curls tight By our knees on the sofa
[Chorus] Quiet New Year’s week Out where the road runs out Every breath a little cloud Hanging in the room You’re here Lokas purring low And Robin’s in the in‑between Can’t touch his hand But he’s walking through our thoughts All the time
[Verse 2] Wind in the flue Clock in the hall Pine logs collapsing Soft orange glow
We say his name Over this stew Laugh at a story Like he’s about to come in
[Chorus]
[Bridge] Another year turning Same stars above this roof Three chairs at the table One filled up with memory I hold you closer You squeeze back twice We don’t say it out loud But we both feel him here
[Chorus]
Musikstyle
Gentle indie-folk ballad, nylon-string guitar and soft piano, intimate male vocals close to the mic. Brushed snare and warm upright bass slide in for the chorus, with light pad swells for a wintry halo. Dynamics stay subtle: verses hushed and detailed, chorus lifts with simple harmonies and a little sparkle from glockenspiel, then taper back to a whisper at the end.