SEPTEMBER SLEEVES
The stoplight blinks a lonely red above the empty square
The scent of pine and morning dew is hanging in the air
There ain't no rush to get to work
There ain't no trains to catch
Just the morning coffee brewing
And the garden in the patch
The lady in the velvet leans against the peeling fence
Finding that the quiet life is making real sense
The silver hair is catching on the early golden ray
As the sleepy town begins to wake
And start another day
SEPTEMBER SLEEVES
The bakery is opening
The smell of flour and heat
Drifts across the cobblestones and down the narrow street
We're strangers in this corner but they treat us like our own
The kind of simple kindness that has never really grown
