The Haunting Of Twilight Manor

A spooky manor AI image evocative of the poem The Haunting Of Twilight Manor

The haunting of twilight manor, where shadows blended,
And the whispers of the lost descended,
A mansion veiled in twilight’s gloom,
Where sorrow wove a spectral loom.

The grand halls echoed with regret,
In moonlit beams, the past was set,
Each room had been a shrine to vanished grace,
Now haunted by a mournful face.

The portraits on the walls they wept,
For they lived in darkness, buried deep,
Their eyes followed through the haze,
A gallery of bygone days.

The haunting of the twilight manor, as the clock struck twelve, the hour’s toll,
Revived the spirits of the soul,
They wandered through the cold, dark night,
Eclipsed by sorrow’s endless flight.

In the library, shadows crawled,
Through ancient tomes and silence fell,
Each page had been a fragment of lost dreams,
In spectral light, their sorrow gleamed.

The fireplace’s embers died,
Beneath a dark and brooding sky,
While in the corners, soft and low,
The voices of the lost were heard.

In the ballroom, echoes danced,
Where delights once held festive reign,
Now ghostly waltzes filled the air,
A spectral dance of deep despair.

The haunting of the twilight manor, the mirrors, tarnished, showed no light,
Reflecting on the sorrows of the night,
Their surface held a fleeting glimpse,
Of yesteryears in mournful prints.

The garden, overgrown and wild,
Once held the joy of a mild ingenuity,
Now, it bore a mournful cry,
Where petals fell, and spirits sighed.

The attic’s dust lay undisturbed,
Where forgotten furniture and letters curved,
Echoes of a past long gone,
Spoke of days now faded, drawn.

The old grand piano’s keys, now silent,
Had once played vibrant melodies,
In the music’s final strain,
Echoes of ancient pain resided.

So tread carefully where shadows had played,
In twilight’s forsaken sway,
For in the gloom, the past resided,
In every echo, every stride.

Each whisper through the manor’s halls,
It was a reminder of time’s cruel calls,
In every corner, every shroud,
The past’s lament was dark and loud.

The haunting of the twilight manor remained.
Esther Elizabeth Racah

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