Lyric

I take your coat, you take my hand

The window fogs, we understand

A menu folded, cream and gold

Full of little things to hold

The soup says, stay

The bread says, here

The last warm roll

Pulls us near

Seven o'clock

And nothing rushes

Your quiet smile

Between the brushes

Warmth on the menu

Small promises too

Warmth on the menu

I saved a place for you

Sweet little promises

That come through

Warmth on the menu

And me beside you

A spoon of honey in your tea

A cracked white cup, a seat for me

The jazz man hums from far away

Like he knows what we can't say

The pie comes out

In cinnamon steam

You lean in close

And make that dream

Seven o'clock

The room grows slower

Your fingertips

My shoulder closer

Warmth on the menu

Small promises too

Warmth on the menu

I saved a place for you

Sweet little promises

That come through

Warmth on the menu

And me beside you

If the night turns cold

We'll stay inside

With the sugar bowl

And the tide of time

One more spoon

One more sigh

One more soft

Don't-go-by

Warmth on the menu

Small promises too

Warmth on the menu

I saved a place for you

Sweet little promises

That come through

Warmth on the menu

And me beside you