by James Phillips
a glass of cheap supermarket wineThere's a hole in the fence
I have no idea where it leads
I've resisted for years
Sometimes there are bones by the hole
Other times there are piles of pinecones
Strangely, the bones are less worrying
I once read about the worship of Mithras
I have never seen a pool of blood
Possibly it's only a matter of time
One day I may go through
Or maybe something will come from the other side
Either way I know my life will change
For better or worse?
All I know is, there is a hole in the fence.
About the author
James Phillips is a storyteller from North Wales. He drives a mobility scooter and has a podcast called Between Mountains & Sea.
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