Echoes of Sorrow

Echoes of Sorrow

In the creak of old boards, a whisper of dread,
shadows of sorrow in each groan overhead.
The timber’s deep sighs in a muffled lament,
speak of secrets and pain in their silent descent.

In corners unseen where the dust claims its own,
the memories linger, in each crack and each moan.
The past’s cruel echo in the floorboards resounds,
in the silent dark spaces, where the heartache abounds.

Each creak is a ghost from the shadows of old,
a harbinger’s moan from the depths of the floor.
The timber betrays all the sorrows we hide,
in its groaning, it tells of our pain, far and wide.

Under the planks where the darkness has slept,
a symphony of suffering, silently kept.
The whispers of woe in the wood’s hidden core,
sing songs of our losses, from the past we abhor.

In the heart of the house where the shadows convene,
the echoes of sorrow in the dark lie unseen.
Through the corridors of memory, where pain is preserved,
the wood holds our grief, as it endlessly swerved.

The echoes of sorrow, forever they’ll stay,
in the grain of the wood, in the heart of the gray.
In each groan and each creak of the ancient, dark floor,
resides all the sorrow and loss we implore.