Quiet Proof

Songwriter, Producer and Music Editor: Andy Karsai / Arsenio Di Donato

Vocal: Lila Rose Elyse

Also available on all the major streaming services and social networks.

Lyrics

This afternoon the rain lost interest,
wandered off and left the street with freckles.
Puddles blinked like tired eyes,
bus stops breathed and let their shoulders settle.
I walked home slow with paper crackling,
a small warm sun against my chest,
counting corners, counting sparrows,
letting silence do the rest.

And in my hands, I felt a lineage—
oven, crust, then skin, then room.
A hush that moved the way a blessing moves,
without a word, without a tune.

Heat migrates—love does too.
From the making to the holding to the whole of the room.
Quiet proof that passage can feel like presence,
like a lamp still warm after you’ve gone through.
Heat migrates—I know you do.
From your breath to my hands to the air between us two.
Quiet proof that passage can feel like presence,
still-warm light where you once moved.

The rain left polka-dots on pavement,
little constellations at my feet.
A stranger smiled like we were kin,
both admitted by the cooling street.
At home, I tore the bread and listened
to steam write cursive in the air,
left crumbs like bright, soft north stars
on the maple table there.

And it was simple as a secret:
what has traveled still can stay.
You were nowhere in the doorway,
but your warmth knew every way.

Heat migrates—love does too.
From the making to the holding to the whole of the room.
Quiet proof that passage can feel like presence,
like a lamp still warm after you’ve gone through.
Heat migrates—I know you do.
From your breath to my hands to the air between us two.
Quiet proof that passage can feel like presence,
still-warm light where you once moved.

Not everything that leaves is leaving—
some things linger in the seams:
your laughter in the tea stain,
your softness in the sheets.
Even rain keeps singing,
from the gutters to the trees—
and even when the street is dry,
it hums of where it’s been.

I hold the loaf, I hold the day,
I hold the echo you became.

Heat migrates—love does too.
From the making to the holding to the whole of the room.
Quiet proof that passage can feel like presence,
like a door still warm from letting you through.
Heat migrates—I know you do.
From your body to my body to the space that makes us two.
Quiet proof that passage can feel like presence—
you in the air, and me with you.

Freckled streets, a paper sigh,
warmth that doesn’t say goodbye.