Lyric

The window wore a softer green

Than it did the week before

A little stem had found the rail

And asked for nothing more

I let it climb above the cloth

I liked the way it stayed

A quiet thing that learned my room

And took the shape I gave

The morning came in thinner lines

Across the wooden floor

I pulled the curtain halfway back

Then left it like before

I called it gentle

I called it care

I called it something living there

But every leaf that touched the light

Kept asking for another inch

Vines on the Curtain Rod

Turning the window dim

I kept them from the scissors

Now the daylight enters thin

Nothing ever broke at once

Nothing made a sound

I only watched the room grow dark

And let the green come down

The fabric bowed beneath the weight

Of everything I spared

A tendril crossed the metal hook

Like it had always lived there

I brushed the dust from every leaf

But never cut the stem

I thought if something still could grow

I should not question it

The glass behind it blurred with rain

Or breath I could not name

The room was full of living things

That made the air feel strange

I called it patience

I called it grace

I called it keeping every place

But all the light I tried to save

Was filtered through what I delayed

Vines on the Curtain Rod

Turning the window dim

I kept them from the scissors

Now the daylight enters thin

Nothing ever broke at once

Nothing made a sound

I only watched the room grow dark

And let the green come down

My hand above the pruning shears

Stayed open in the shade

A living thing can still be wrong

For the room where it was raised

Vines on the Curtain Rod

I know why you reached so far

There was not enough open sky

Inside this careful jar

Nothing has to fall apart

For me to turn around

I can give the window back

And let the first light down

One small cut beneath the leaves

One pale square of morning shown

The room is not empty now

It only has room to grow