In the moon's cold, silver light,
A haunted home stirs in the night.
Creaking floors and shadows deep,
Where lost voices never sleep.
Ghostly footsteps fill the air,
Echoes drift from who knows where.
Walls remember secrets told,
In whispered tales of days of old.
Windows rattle, curtains sway,
As if calling those who’ve gone away.
Laughter lingers, faint and clear,
Filling empty rooms with fear.
Once it was a place of cheer,
Now it holds both dread and tear.
Yet in the stillness, soft and slow,
The haunted home breathes tales of woe.
About the Creator
Andrew Mile
Andrew Mile is passionate about technology, wedding planning, and services, crafting insightful content that blends innovation with elegance, making complex topics accessible and weddings unforgettable.
Reader insights
Nice work
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
Top insight
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
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Comments (2)
I like that you drew a connection between the curtains swaying and those who have gone away. Such a unique way of giving the house a haunting feel. This was a very good poem, I love that each line rhymed and I love the story within the lines.
the charm of old houses is timeless, beyond the horror stories, I believe they contain the spirit of those who lived in them, beautiful poetry!