The Hollow Night

The Hollow Night

The leaves are knives beneath the moon,

They whisper names the dead once knew,

The air is thick with ancient sighs,

And shadows drink the morning dew.

A house still stands at the end of the road,

Its windows black as secrets kept,

Inside the walls, a heartbeat stirs,

The sound of something that never slept.

The ground remembers every scream,

Each root a finger reaching wide,

And though the world has long moved on,

Some souls refuse to step aside.

You feel them watch as you pass by,

Their longing curled in every breath,

For on this night when veils grow thin,

The living walk too close to death.