Dancing in the Kitchen

[Verse 1]
The house was too quiet for July,
windows open, heat clinging to the walls.
The radio was half static, half song,
something neither of us admitted we liked.
You laughed when I stepped on your foot,
said it didn’t matter, pulled me closer anyway.
The floor was warm,
and I remember thinking
this feels like something I’ll miss one day.

[Chorus]
I had a dream we were dancing in the kitchen,
not for any reason, not to impress anyone.
Just moving because the night was heavy
and we didn’t want to sit still.
Your hand at my waist, my head on your shoulder,
like that was where it always belonged.
It wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it felt real.

[Verse 2]
There were dishes in the sink we ignored,
a clock blinking the wrong time.
You said you never dance,
but there you were,
counting under your breath,
trying not to mess it up.
I could smell summer on your skin,
could feel the day finally letting go of us.
Nothing big was said.
Nothing had to be.

[Chorus]
I had a dream we were dancing in the kitchen,
the kind of moment that doesn’t ask for meaning.
No promises, no tomorrow talk,
just the hum of the fridge
and the sound of us breathing.
If the world ended right there,
I think I would’ve been okay.

[Bridge]
Maybe it was only a dream.
Maybe it’s a memory my heart made kinder.
But I wake up missing the way it felt,
like life slowed down just long enough
to let us stay.

[Outro]
I don’t remember how the song ended.
I don’t remember who let go first.
I just know somewhere in my head,
on a hot summer night,
we’re still there,
dancing in the kitchen.

Americana indie folk-country with intimate, conversational storytelling and stripped-down nostalgia female