The darkness echoes through the halls and stairs where the
laughs and voices of the forgotten used to stretch. Then a
splash into the neglected reservoir, filled with its enchanted
waters, recalls the immortal spirits back to being. The chatter
of the gaggle of women sitting gracefully in magnificent
tunics, on the edge, the pitter-patter of children's sandals
hitting the stone slabs while they play, and the men boasting
of their strength and talents, draped in splendid, woolen
fabrics. The spring trickles through the walls of the caves
through mud and stone, until finally pooling in its place,
forever serving its purpose for the shadows at the bath
house.
Author's Note: On a tour of the UK, I had the opportunity to tour the ancient Roman baths of Bath, England. The visit inspired me to write about the shadows and spirits of the place
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