I don’t remember The color of her bathroom tile But I close my eyes and Sit on her front porch for a while Annie’s house is frozen in my memory now Annie’s house is at the end of a road I don’t go down Left the oven open To keep the kitchen warm The sound ringing in my mind tonight Is that same old slamming screen door Annie’s house is calling from a rotary telephone Annie’s house is next door but a million miles gone I’ll go to bed a little early tonight I’ll pull her quilt up to my chest Safe and warm, just like her kitchen All in our Sunday best