This morning, I woke up in Cornwall, with no idea how I got there.
I couldn't see the sea from the window, but I could hear the birds.
Strangers knew my name, my secrets, my songs.
And I found I knew theirs.
The streets were familiar, but they weren't the streets I grew up on.
I never grazed knees on those pavements,
Or idled home from school past those street signs.
It was a place removed from childhood,
With eyes I shouldn't know so intimately,
With no idea how they became so sure in my mind,
When they shouldn't even exist.