Haunted Mirror 1

In the corner of a dim-lit room,

A mirror stands, encased in gloom,

Its surface glass, a shroud of night,

Whispers secrets, veiled from light.

I peer into its chilling gaze,

And shiver at the spectral ways

That shadows dance, their forms entwined,

In that dark realm, where spirits bind.

Oh, how it glimmers, yet it chills,

A portal to the void that fills

With whispers soft, from worlds afar,

Each glance a glimpse of who they are.

I fear the glass, for it has eyes,

Watching me with ancient ties.

Behind the sheen, the phantoms play,

Inviting me to drift away.

They beckon from that endless sphere,

Their laughter echoes, sharp with fear.

I know not what they wish to show—

A truth concealed, a tale of woe.

Perhaps I found it in a car boot sale,

This haunted glass, this eerie veil.

Now, in its depths, I sense the cost,

For in its realm, the living's lost.

So I stand still, in twilight’s thrall,

Afraid to heed their ghostly call.

Yet in my heart, a yearning grows,

To know the tales that darkness knows.

But wisdom whispers, "Be not bold,

For secrets kept may not be told."

With trembling hands, I turn away,