This is a short, stripped-back offering from another American singer-songwriter, Sara Jackson-Holman. It's one that comes and goes in only 2 minutes and 5 seconds, but may well stay with you a lot longer.
There's hesitancy to this tune, right from the start. A single piano note begins it, held for almost 4 seconds, which feels like a surprisingly long time. The note repeats, and again, the music feeling it's way into existence. It's a lo fi piano - like it's been preserved on a tape recorder, placed in the middle of the room.
The song is a poem-like offering, a brief snatch of monologue, delivered in a determined but relaxed way, with the vocal production quite flat and forward in the mix. This makes it seem very personal and immediate. It's very effective.
You don't get long to enjoy this song before you realise it's all going to end, and pass away into memory in almost the same way it started: single notes on the piano.
And right before the end, there's a tantalising moment when you feel the piano chords will never quite resolve, as you desperately need it to ... But, it does. And then, that's it. It's gone. You're left with the memory, and not quite sure exactly what you've heard. It's like a short conversation that you remember only vaguely, like a dream which slips just out of your grasp as you wake.
Above all that (and like most of what I've written about over the past weeks), this is a lovely, well-crafted bit of music. Song-writing done just right - nothing more, nothing less.
I'd recommend listening to this in the context of Sara's 2013 album, Cardiology, most of which is quite different (think electro-influenced, fuzzy, and almost pop), although there's another fabulous piano-backed mini song on that record too, called Oh My Honey (it's only 1 min 25 secs long).