I am the frame of rusted iron beam
Holding the ghost of a gardener's dream
My panes are cracked and the winter is cold
Watching the story of patience unfold
Patchwork fur on a concrete floor
Keeping the wind from the open door
Orange and black in the pale grey light
Guarding the greenhouse all through the night
Monstera leaves lean on my jagged edge
Ivy is crawling across the stone ledge
Syllables spoken in Latin and loam
This broken shelter is all that she calls home
Patchwork fur on a concrete floor
Keeping the wind from the open door
Orange and black in the pale grey light
Guarding the greenhouse all through the night
She licks a paw by the Solanum pot
Waiting for warmth in a forgotten plot
Bowing her head to the drip of the rain
Sleeping soundly beside the window pane
Patchwork fur on a concrete floor
Keeping the wind from the open door
Orange and black in the pale grey light
Guarding the greenhouse all through the night
The soil is sour and the peat is dry
Under a heavy and charcoal sky
But she stays steady and she stays true
Watching the seedlings turn emerald hue
I hold the heat in my belly of brick
While the winter air grows heavy and thick
She is the anchor the roots cannot see
Keeping the spirit of botany free
Patchwork fur on a concrete floor
Keeping the wind from the open door
Orange and black in the pale grey light
Guarding the greenhouse all through the night
Stay gold, little cat.
Stay gold in the glass.
(Slow final stomp)
