The haunt

They lived in the house next door,
in a time
well before,
I arrived in their city;
The one that I adore.

In their house they’d stay.
In the park they’d play.
The one’s that knew them,
knew them as a happy bunch.

Until that ill-fated day,
where all things went wrong,
they left the world of the living,
with an eerie silent song.

My lights now flicker at dusk.
Smoke alarms go off.
When unseen neighbors walk in,
dropping by, for a talk.

It scares me a little,
when shivers rundown my spine,
to know their beautiful lives,
ended in scarlet wine.

Lost now in time,
are their days of glory,
haunted by their lives,
haunting us with stories.

I’m greeted by vapor at dawn,
as I wake to the gong,
of knocks on my door,
with no one there before.

With this melancholic song,
I proceed to sleep;
While ghosts walk behind this wall,
and ask their memories we keep.

In their days of silence.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar

Pen it... or aaa type it. u know what i mean.

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