Supernatural

The dark of the sky has not yet gone,
The sun has not yet gleamed with joy,
The clouds have not yet tired of hiding,
The moon behind them, where it lazily sleeps.
The stars don’t blink, they stand still today,
And all around there’s an eerie silence,
Not a sound of man, nor bird nor dog,
Only the whispers of ghosts prevail.
They whisper to each other in creaks of windows,
In the rustle of leaves, in the whoosh of the wind,
And when all is said and done,
When the morning will come again,
They’ll go back to sleep,
And no one will believe me when I tell them,
I heard the ghosts around me yesternight again.

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