If I Could Feel

04:30
Kathy Sparling
2014
Kathy Sparling

Story

Kathy Sparling – vocal
Dan Cantrell – piano
Lisa Mezzacappa – acoustic bass
Tim Rowe – drums

Lyrics

Is this the house, is that the yard? I don’t know when I stopped here last.
I slow my steps, trace the hard won changes wrung from seasons past:
That cyclone fence wove vines to keep it warm.
That brand new coat of paint has turned its collar to the storm.
My own coat barely flutters as the breeze blows kisses by the door.
Guess we forgot to tell the wind that you don’t live here anymore.
Okay I’ll stop pretending that I happened here by chance
I came back on purpose just to watch those wind-blown curtains dance.
If I could feel more than I do,
Finally kneel before rising with you.
Skin like a veil, pale light shining through,
If I could feel, could you?
These new people pick their battles well: white curtains wave from upstairs rooms.
Signals from the chimney spell out treaties struck by brides and grooms.
This cottage borrowed from a storybook speaks of bliss.
This fortress taken from a fairytale tells only this:
That Cinderella dressed in white
Went upstairs to kiss goodnight
By mistake she kissed a snake –
How many hearts did that break?
And how long must she lie, awake?
The wind picks up where it left off, oh every coat at last wears thin.
It rattles every little pane that kept me out, that kept me in.
To tell you truly I expected worse.
The ghosts here seem too stupefied to raise much of a curse.
Impassive windows watch as I cross over to a world not mine.
I breach the fence, disturb the ground, pin my coat up on the line.
It’s cold but that’s the kind of thing that troubles all the real.
I came back imperfect just to see if I could feel.