Listening To Otis Redding At Home During Christmas

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"But not even home…":
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Home is where beds are made and butter is added to

A
toast.

On a

E
cold afternoon you can float room to room like a

A
ghost.

Take the

E
crèche out and argue about who gets to set up the

A
kings.

And I

E
know that it’s home because that’s where the stereo

A
sings

“I’ve got

E
dreams to

A
remember.”

But

B
not even home

A
can be with you

E
forever.

E
It’s Christmastime and the plane flies me over white

A
hills

to a

E
town in a dream, where the sky is frozen and

A
still,

and a

E
room (that’s not mine but it’s just like I left it

A
before,

with the

E
wax from the candles all dusty and locks on the

A
door)

Where I

E
held you so

A
tenderly

B
And where in summer I

A
opened your letter to

E
me

B

Em D D C C/B

I’m

Em
standing

D
where we knelt and a miracle mile now

C
borders

C/B
it,

but if

Em
I turn my

D
face to the field I don’t even

C
notice

C/B
it for a

A
second.

There’s a

E
tangle of greenery where winter scenery

A
ends.

And I

E
hear that song sometimes and imagine us much more than

A
friends —

like if we

E
stayed in this town, bought the first house that went up on

A
sale,

and how

E
each Christmastime would bring inlaws and snowdays and

A
holiday mail.

Your

E
dad says you’re living in Georgia since last

A
September.

Well, “I’ve got

E
dreams to

A
remember.”

Oh

B
Sara, come back to New

A
Hampshire.

E
We’ll stay here forever.

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Listening To Otis Redding At Home During Christmas

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