Lyric

Window fog and cinnamon steam

City sighs in sepia dreams

Time don’t press in places like these

Porcelain hours, quiet and clean

Notebook open but the pages stay bare

I sip on silence, pretend I don’t care

Curtains flicker like they’re dancing slow

Barista hums a tune only locals know

Smells like roasted thoughts and pine

Hearts get soft between 10 and 9

No rush—just the ticking of spoons

On ceramic hearts, under lazy moons

I’m not running, not today

Let the traffic fade away

In this corner I reclaim

My name, my pace, my shade

I don’t need a bigger stage

Coffee warm and stories aged

Fold me in this quiet maze

Porcelain hours, light and haze

People pass like muted clips

Tiny worlds with vanilla sips

I pen a thought then let it fly

Somewhere beneath this powdered sky

City outside may pulse and spin

But in here, it’s soft violin

No filters, no staged replies

Just honest air and almond pies

Everything loud feels far

I draw slow loops in sugar jars

Moments like this don’t last

But I hold them while they pass

I don’t need a bolder name

Softest light, no need for fame

Carved between the gentle rays

Porcelain hours, my own way

Cup is empty, heart is full

Chimes outside, life’s subtle pull

Porcelain hours... still, and whole