Can It Really Be Years - Kari Bremnes

Living alone in a high little room

She can see to the street from her window

She likes it a lot but she just can’t imagine it day after day

She’s waiting to open the boxes of books and to put all the clothes where they

should go The walls may be bare, but she still can’t decide if she’s ready to stay

She wants to be open and ready for something to knock on her door

She’s paying the rent but that doesn’t keep her from hoping for more

You’d say she’d just come, but that’s not the case

Can it really be years since she came to this place

Going to work on a slow-moving tram

Everyone needs to work for a living

She likes sitting here, she can plan, she can dream, and be taken away

Being a writer is what she might do if she lived in a world more forgiving

She works on a story, she works on a book or it could be a play

There’s someone she knows who knows someone in publishing,

maybe she could

She’ll call when she’s finished the dialogue, maybe then, maybe he would

She says she will call, but at her own pace

Can it really be years since she came to this place

Waiting for signs and she knows there’ll be signs

There’ll be omens and so she is waiting

It may be tomorrow, it may be today, but it’s happening soon

Out in the sunlight and under the streetlight and inside her room she is waiting

Watching the shift in the seasons, the wax and the wane of the moon

Watching the text on her mobile, he’s asking her out for a drink

She wants to say yes but it’s never that easy, she needs time to think

And summer is passed, and she still doesn’t ring

Alone in her room, can it really be spring