The Trumpet Vine

The trumpet vine grew in the kitchen window And bloomed bright orange on the wall You sat in the morning light holding a guitar As the first summer rain began to fall And like the gentle raindrops your words fell in the air Making things so clear as we quietly sat there It reminded me of other times you had come before And brought a song or just walked in through the kitchen door Now it seems the truest words i ever heard from you Were said at kitchen tables we have known ’cause somehow in that warm room with coffee on the stove Our hearts were really most at home Sitting at a table looking hard at you Catching up on stories of the things we’d tried to do It seems we really said the most when we didn’t talk at all Let the songs speak for us like the sunlight on the wall. Now as we come and go in sunshine and in rain Some years are seen more clearly than the rest And if it weren’t for kitchen songs and mornings spent with friends We all might lose the things we love the best I can see you sitting there beneath the trumpet vine The sunlight through the window in the kitchen in my mind. You came when you were needed i could not ask for more Than to turn to find you walking through the kitchen door.