And so I've matched my previous NaPoWriMo record on day eighteen. With this in mind, here's a poem straight from the South Wales Valleys.
The Beast Beneath the Coal
Hills of coal in the southern valleys,
where miners made their homes,
the old ruins of their industry
scattered across the snow-swept slopes.
The beast dwells in the deep caverns
which the miners didn't reach.
Slumbering on a bed of coal
lined with slivers of gold,
no colliery knew of it,
no cavers ever stumbled on it,
and yet the scaly wonder
draws on the warmth
from the rocks above its lair,
waiting for the day
to erupt out of the valley
in a cloud of soot and flame.
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