While You Sleep in Penge

I don't need magic wings,
sometimes I just remember things.
They take me to another country,
and the things I do are different.
I might be asleep - or not,
I see shadows. I see what
were once close friends' faces,
come across forgotten
facts, colours, smells
- the sound of distant bells,
reminders as strong as the baked
aroma of butter and lemons.
I dream - or remember – things:
my memory has other wings.