Dormancy Clause

[Verse 1]
A Powell's bookmark left in 'House of Leaves'.
The till receipt from last July tucked in the sleeve.
Two coffees, black, a shared almond croissant.
Buying the same softcover poetry book they both want.
A shy hand brushes his, reaching for the bag.
Just a fragile cutting, a green and hopeful flag.

[Chorus]
(Different Vocalist)
A season to bolt, a reason to wait.
Too much water at the root, a little too late.
The leaves show the damage before the stem knows.
A slow kind of pruning nobody chose.

[Verse 2]
Late September, the first real Portland chill.
He's alone in the philosophy aisle, standing stock-still.
She's by the window, tracing the spine of a map.
Two separate transactions, closing the gap.
A whispered phone call by the botany section,
"Just not enough sun here," a quiet deflection.

[Chorus]
(Different Vocalist)
A season to bolt, a reason to wait.
Too much water at the root, a little too late.
The leaves show the damage before the stem knows.
A slow kind of pruning nobody chose.

[Bridge]
One last visit. A book on kintsugi repair.
The gold in the breaking, the cold winter air.
Left the dust jacket, paid with exact change.
A plant gone to seed, beautiful and strange.

[Outro]
(Different Vocalist)
A slow kind of pruning.
Nobody chose.