Another short poem for day eight of this increasingly difficult NaPoWriMo. This one is about a small pool hidden in the Brecon Beacons, used historically to try and drown witches. Such a cheery subject, isn't it?
Witch's Pool
Hidden by the trees,
a small brown pool
fed by the flow
of a tumbling waterfall.
The surface hides memories,
last moments of those
claimed by the water
for the sin of sorcery.
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