CHRISTMAS LIGHTS IN CALICHE DUST

Snow never falls out here, just wind and caliche dust,

the kind that settles on your boots like it remembers who you was.

Been gone a couple thousand miles, chasing something I can’t name,

now I’m rolling past the feed store sign like nothing here has changed.

Every porch light flickers like a memory I misplaced,

and I swear this whole damn town still carries your face.

It’s a dusty Texas Christmas, baby,

strings of lights on every fence line glowin’ warm.

I’ve been gone too long and maybe

you’re still waiting where the night gets quiet and worn.

If I see you by that old oak tree,

I don’t know what I’ll say—but I’ll try to believe

we’re older now, but maybe not too far gone

for a dusty Texas Christmas to bring us home.

Heard you stayed and kept your mama’s shop,

painted Christmas stars on windows every year without a stop.

I used to swear I’d never settle down,

but leaving only taught me how a heart belongs to one small town.

And every FM station plays the same old carols out of tune,

and it feels like they’ve been humming ’bout you since June.

It’s a dusty Texas Christmas, baby,

with that Main Street nativity glowing soft.

Ran from love like it might save me,

but the further that I travelled, the more I got lost.

If I find you in that midnight chill,

I’ll breathe your name in the air until

the whole damn sky remembers who we were

on a dusty Texas Christmas, back when times felt sure.

I know I left you standin’ there,

a winter wind tangled in your hair.

But I kept your laugh between my ribs,

like a secret only highways could forgive.

Final Chorus

It’s a dusty Texas Christmas, baby,

and I’m pullin’ in slow past your porch light glow.

Maybe time’s been kind—or crazy—

but I’ve still got room for this love to grow.

If you open that old screen door,

I’ll drop my bags right on your floor

and thank the stars for leading wanderers home

to a dusty Texas Christmas…

and the girl I should’ve never left alone.