Where Darkness Strolls

In shadows deep, where moonlight fades,

A graveyard rests in silent shades.

Beneath the tombstones cold and gray,

A ghostly presence roams the fray.

Whispers dance on the chilling breeze,

Amongst the graves, where spirits tease.

A specter clad in tattered white,

With hollow eyes, devoid of light.

Through ivy-twined and twisted trees,

It floats with haunting, spectral ease.

Echoes of a forgotten past,

In graveyard's grip, the die is cast.

The moon, a lantern in the night,

Illuminates a ghostly sight.

Its moans a dirge, a mournful sound,

In hallowed soil, rest is not found.

Fingers trace the weathered stone,

Where names and memories are overthrown.

The ghost, a wraith of endless woe,

In sorrow's garden it does sow.

Shadows play a macabre game,

As moonbeams shiver in the flame.

The tombstones stand like sentinels,

Witness to tales no tongue retells.

A chorus of the spectral wind,

Whistles through the graves, chagrined.

A requiem for the long-lost souls,

In graveyard depths where darkness strolls.

Silent footsteps on the dew-kissed grass,

The ghost moves through the mausoleum mass.

Ephemeral, yet hauntingly near,

It whispers secrets to the sear.

Glimmers of the afterlife,

In the graveyard's spectral strife.

Lost souls entwined in ethereal chains,

A phantom dance in eternal reins.

As midnight tolls, the graveyard sighs,

Underneath the starlit skies.

A ghostly tale, forever told,

In the graveyard's grasp, the spirit's hold.