Her Kitchen Lives in My Coat Pocket

Lyrics

I keep a card in my coat pocket
Soft from folding, edged with flour
Her handwriting leans like a candle
In the grey of the evening hour
Far from the stove and the steaming kettle
In a city that doesn't know
I take it out on the rainy corner
Just to feel the warmth of home

Her kitchen lives in my coat pocket
A cinnamon ghost, a little light
When the street is cold and the window's lonely
I read it softly, in the night
Her kitchen lives in my coat pocket
Though the miles are long between
I can smell the bread, I can hear her humming
And I'm home, and I'm seventeen

I tried her recipe in my small flat
The oven too hot, the pan too wide
It came out nothing like hers, and yet
Something sweet rose up inside
I sat on the floor with a crooked loaf
And I laughed, and I cried, and I ate
Homesick is only a kind of love
That has nowhere to go but wait

Her kitchen lives in my coat pocket
A cinnamon ghost, a little light
When the street is cold and the window's lonely
I read it softly, in the night
Her kitchen lives in my coat pocket
Though the miles are long between
I can smell the bread, I can hear her humming
And I'm home, and I'm seventeen

Some day I'll stand in her real kitchen
And she'll tell me what I did wrong
And I'll nod, and I'll thank her, and I'll stir it
Slowly, all day long

Her kitchen lives in my coat pocket
A cinnamon ghost, a little light
When the street is cold and the window's lonely
I read it softly, in the night
Her kitchen lives in my coat pocket
Though the miles are long between
I can smell the bread, I can hear her humming
And I'm home, and I'm seventeen

In my coat pocket
Folded small
Her kitchen lives
And I am home