The kettle sings, the window fogs
You scrape the butter off the top
The radio plays something low
I watch the morning start to glow
Butter toast, a simple thing
The kind of joy that doesn't sting
The day is slow, the light is kind
I leave my worries far behind
You hum a tune you heard somewhere
I catch the melody in the air
The cat stretches across the chair
We don't move, we just stay there
Butter toast, a simple thing
The kind of joy that doesn't sting
The day is slow, the light is kind
I leave my worries far behind
The afternoon arrives too soon
We let it in, we don't assume
No need to rush, no need to plan
This quiet moment is enough
Butter toast, the light is clear
Every small thing holds me here
Nothing loud and nothing grand
Just the sun and your hand
