In dust-laced halls where moonlight slips,
Ghosts gather, trailing ancient sighs—
Their fingers brush the faded scripts
Of yesteryears and hollow ties.

A lantern flickers: moths of thought
Waltz in the attic’s whispered gloom.
Here, monsters once with shadows fought
Beneath the cradle’s woven loom.

The dresser’s mirror softly weeps
For faces pressed against the glass—
Reflections lost to midnight’s keep,
A thousand eyes that watched and passed.

Old laughter curls in smoky rings
Above the hearth where embers fade.
The kettle’s song, the doorbell’s sting,
A game of hide-and-seek once played.

A rocking horse with splintered mane,
Its wooden eyes moon-bright, forlorn,
Remembers gallops through the rain
And lullabies to greet the morn.

The wallpaper—cracked, a tapestry—
Hides monsters drawn in childish scrawl;
Fears softened by the memory
Of candlelight against the wall.

A music box with rusted tune
Spins waltzes for the ones unseen,
And in the corners, dust festoons
The dreams of what had once had been.

From every stair and hollow nook
The ghosts recall the scent of bread,
The turning of a yellowed book,
The hush of stories left unsaid.

In attic trunks, a velvet glove
Still cradles warmth from vanished hands;
A phantom pulse, the echo of
A dance that time no more commands.

The monsters, too, are gentler now—
Their claws dulled by the passing years;
They tiptoe through the memories, how
They once were shaped by hope and fears.

So in these haunted, golden rooms
Where childhood’s shadows softly play,
The gentle ghosts and monsters bloom—
Remembering, and fade away.

monsters, ghosts, and memories — Chapter 3

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