I woke up in the pocket
of my dark blue duffle coat.
The one which smells of cinnamon,
with the shiny metal knobs.

I woke up in the pocket
of my dark blue duffle coat.
I was the size of Thumbelina,
barely grander than a toad.

I woke up in the pocket
of my dark blue duffle coat
in a pitch black woolen warmth.
(All my raincoats should take note.)

I woke up in the pocket
of my dark blue duffle coat
where I fiddled with the coins
and the keys and washed out bank notes.

I woke up in the pocket
of my dark blue duffle coat
and the day was such a thrill
with its fluky lazy stroll.

I woke up in the pocket
of my dark blue duffle coat
where I felt small again.
Immaturity - my poison's antidote.