I drift by the window pane
A rusted hull in gentle rain
The tea pot hums a silver song
Where heavy anchors now belong
I am the tugboat in the hall
A heavy ghost against the wall
I wait for tides to pull me deep
While all the kitchen gardens sleep
The soil is rich in pots of clay
Where green leaves stretch to find the day
The Monstera climbs a wooden wire
Above the stove's low orange fire
The steam rises in a white curl
Like ocean foam in a slow swirl
I watch the porcelain cup glow
While saltwater currents start to flow
I am the tugboat in the hall
A heavy ghost against the wall
I wait for tides to pull me deep
While all the kitchen gardens sleep
Spathiphyllum breathes the midnight air
A quiet peace beyond compare
The kettle screams a sudden note
To wake the spirit of my boat
The salt is etched upon my skin
Where the midnight currents begin
I lean against the tiled floor
And dream of an open harbor door
I am the tugboat in the hall
A heavy ghost against the wall
I wait for tides to pull me deep
While all the kitchen gardens sleep
Iron and steam
Iron and steam
Sinking in a kitchen dream
