A Ghostly Presence

Through the creaking door, so rusted and old,
Beyond the misty veil, where spirits unfold;
Amidst the wailing winds, with a touch of cold,
A ghostly figure appears, as tales are told.

Silvered moonlight dances on their cape so black,
Eyes shine like crystal pools, revealing no lack;
Of malice or intent – though whispers do track,
Their spectral presence along an ancient path.

Fingers stretching long, they glide through the night,
Seeking something lost, a faint flicker of light;
A dream so elusive, that forever does fight,
Against the darkened grip, of their endless plight.

The ghostly presence feels more potent at dusk,
As if the shadows lend their strength a brisk touch;
Through cobweb-strewn halls and abandoned attics, they musk,
A faint scent of memories, still clinging to dust.

Within the dead of night, a chilling moan resounds,
Echoes through the dark, that makes hearts profoundly astound;
In houses by candlelight, where shadows abound,
The ghost appears, with a whispered, haunting sound.

Halloween arrives, and children dress in frights,
Gathering for tricks or treats beneath the moonlit heights;
Amidst the laughter and the joyous delight,
The ghost appears, to give them one more sight.

In a flash of ethereal light, a wisp through the air,
A fleeting moment captured by eyes that stare;
Then vanishing once more into the night, so bare,
Leaving only memories and lingering scares.

But when November comes, with its golden dawn,
The ghostly presence fades, as spirits move on;
Awaiting another year for their haunting to spawn,
Until the next Halloween, so sinister and drawn.

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