Trunk Full of Silver

Verse

We sit on the folding chair by the radiator grille
An enamel mug of tea, two spoons, a folded bill
Creased photographs spill like coins on the rug
A sailor's grin, a birthday hat, a dog with a ragged tug
Your fingers find a movie ticket with the corner torn
I press it flat with my thumb and hum a tune from '49

Chorus

Hep, let's sort these quiet treasures, one by one
Keep the one where you wink at me under the fairground sun
Tuck the letters in the velvet heart, close to the seam
We make a room of memories in a room no bigger than a dream

Verse

A scarf with moth holes, a school play program, our first rent slip
A photograph of snow on the bakery sign, a ribbon and a chip
We fold the map to where we danced beside the river bend
Decide which traces travel onward and which I will send

Chorus

Hep, let's sort these quiet treasures, one by one
Hold the portrait where we're beaming, keep the night we learned to run
Slip the postcard in the biscuit tin, set the tin on the chair
We make a house of moments in a space that's thin as air

Bridge

whispered

If the ceiling presses closer, if the streetlight thins to blue
We'll spin this tiny orbit till the whole wide world feels new

Chorus

Hep, let's sort these quiet treasures, one by one
Save the song that matches footsteps, save the joke about the bun
Stow the ring that never fitted in a corner of the chest
We build a life of postcards in the room that suits us best