In the quiet of the midnight hour,
A shadow glides across the floor,
With whispers soft as falling leaves,
A presence felt forevermore.
Through ancient halls where echoes dwell,
The ghostly figure roams in grace,
A story told in silent sighs,
A haunting dance in empty space.
Beneath the moon’s pale, watchful gaze,
The ghost laments in gentle tones,
A spectral song of yesteryears,
A melody of lost unknowns.
Yet in its eyes, a yearning glint,
For moments lost to time’s cruel hold,
A restless soul in endless night,
A tale of whispers, soft and cold.