A little tired tonight–not quite up to a full-on post. Just to keep my hand in, I thought I’d dust off this old thing:

It’s Always Warm Where You Are

The sun came out but gave no heat.
You huddled on the windy beach
While I built a fire of old madrone.
I fed it kindling by the yard.
We watched it as it smoked and charred.
But if that wood had been drier, how would I have known…

That it’s always warm where you are.
It’s always warm where you are.
The mercury may drop a few degrees.
My heart will never feel the deepest freeze.
It’s always warmest where you are.

One wintry night we drove to town,
And halfway home the car broke down
With miles to go before we slept.
I wasn’t dressed to walk so far
Along the slushy boulevard,
But I don’t mind a little snow because I can accept…

That it’s always warm where you are
It’s always warm where you are
It’s true that we may wander or get lost.
I’ll never feel the winter’s killing frost.
It’s always warmest where you are.

You took me to your mother’s place.
She wore her opinion of me like a scar on her face.
But I ignored her cold regard
Because it’s always warm where you are.

The room is cold; the heat is down.
Outside our window I see snow on the frozen ground,
But you are here, my morning star,
And it’s always warm where you are.

These are the lyrics of a fictional song, as weird as that may sound. I quoted just a few lines of it in The River in Winter. In the book, it’s supposed to have been written by a very minor character.

Someday soon, given adequate time and inspiration, I hope to set the lyrics to music. (At that point, I suppose this will become an actual song, rather than a fictional one.) In addition to the various garden-variety challenges of songwriting, I also have to decide how badly I “need” to make the finished product match the description in the book. I’ve already made one very unsuccessful attempt, but I ended up having to scratch that part of my hard drive with a pin to expunge the pitiful thing.