The Other Place
I’ve never been to that other place –
You know the one.
Hidden, secret, a degree away from normal.
Entered through a small wooden door,
Only noticed out of the corner of your eye,
Or through a large wardrobe in an empty bedroom.
It could be a hole in a garden wall, almost buried
Under thick, heavy vines.
Or a locked entrance to a castle,
High in the mountains,
Where no-one ever goes.
Except when they do
And later return,
Somehow different, transported to
That other place,
Where I have never been
And am unlikely to ever go.
And so I watch the doors open,
Even as they remain closed to me.
I watch and I read
The signs, the books,
Find the almost entrances,
In plain sight.
2 thoughts on “Poem Hour Eleven”
I feel the same way – I know they are there but haven’t found them, either, except in books!! Or in your line: ‘Find the almost entrances’!