The Whisper of the Past, Soft and Haunting

The Whisper of the Past, Soft and Haunting

In the quiet corners, where shadows crawl and play,The whisper of the past, soft and haunting, lays.A ghostly murmur drifts through dust-ridden beams,Where memories cling like cobwebs to forgotten dreams.Soft and haunting, lays the echo of regret,A spectral touch of lips one would soon forget.In this echo chamber where old sorrows blend,The whisper of the past finds no place to end.Each creak beneath the floorboards breathes a ghostly sigh,Echoes of lovers’ promises, now long since dry.Soft and haunting, lays the phantom of our yesterdays,Woven through the silence of these empty hallways.The past, a jester, dances with its mournful tune,A reminder that nostalgia’s not a friend, but a tomb.Soft and haunting, lays a melody of faded light,A dirge for moments lost to the eternal night.In forgotten rooms where shadows weave and dart,The whisper of the past clutches at the heart.Soft and haunting, lays the chill of memories’ touch,A reminder that some ghosts hurt far too much.Echoes of old laughter and tears long dried,Paint a somber picture of what was denied.Soft and haunting, lays the whisper of regret,A chilling reminder of what one might forget.The whisper of the past, soft and haunting, lays,In the silence of the floorboards, where shadows play,Each sigh a reminder of dreams that decay.