In the quiet of the night, where shadows softly creep,
Whispers of the unseen, in silence, secrets keep.
A gentle breeze that carries tales of time’s forgotten lore,
In the dance of moonlit whispers, where the ghostly spirits soar.

Through the ancient, creaking halls, where echoes softly sigh,
The shadows weave their stories, beneath the starry sky.
Invisible fingers trace the memories left behind,
In the silent, spectral murmurings that haunt the restless mind.

In the dance of fleeting phantoms, where the moonlight softly gleams,
The past and present intertwine within the land of dreams.
A world unseen, yet felt, as chills caress the skin,
In the haunting, gentle presence of the spirits that lie within.

So listen to the whispers, the echoes of the past,
In the silent, ghostly dance that through the night is cast.
For in the shadows’ gentle sway, the secrets softly flow,
In the moonlit, mystic realm where the ghostly spirits go.