The salt air clings to the old stone wall.
The winter dusk makes the shadows tall.
I walk the path where the apples grow.
The branches bend under heavy snow.
Brown leather gloves on the frozen white.
Waiting alone in the fading light.
Warmth left behind in a quiet pair.
Cold wind is pulling the winter air.
The orchard sleeps in a silver gown.
The golden leaves have all tumbled down.
I see them resting beside the gate.
A sudden pause and a lonely wait.
Brown leather gloves on the frozen white.
Waiting alone in the fading light.
Warmth left behind in a quiet pair.
Cold wind is pulling the winter air.
I kept the lamp for the ships at sea.
Now this old garden is calling me.
Tied up in knots like a sailor's line.
The scent of cedar and winter pine.
Brown leather gloves on the frozen white.
Waiting alone in the fading light.
Warmth left behind in a quiet pair.
Cold wind is pulling the winter air.
Soft as a prayer in a wooden room.
The winter flower is starting to bloom.
One single touch and the world goes still.
A sudden shiver and a sudden chill.
I pick them up from the icy crust.
The leather skin is a layer of rust.
Two strangers meet in the evening glow.
While the white petals begin to blow.
Brown leather gloves on the frozen white.
Waiting alone in the fading light.
Warmth left behind in a quiet pair.
Cold wind is pulling the winter air.
Leather and frost.
The light is lost.
(Humming)
