The Hollow Night
Creepy night when weirdness takes flight
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.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
Keep reading
More stories from Marie381Uk and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (1)
A difficult poem, but it is distinctive.