In the quiet of night where whispers dwell,
A shadow slinks along, weaving a spell.
Creeping through corners, its form takes flight,
In flickering candles, it dances with fright.

Walls breathe with secrets, old tales laced in dread,
Each creak of the floorboards, a whisper of the dead.
Skulking in corners, cloaked in the dark,
Every heartbeat echoes, a restless spark.

Eyes made of moonlight, sharp and so keen,
In the veil of the twilight, it lurks, unseen.
I shudder and tremble, pulse racing like thunder,
For shadows may harbor our fears left to ponder.

Yet in that stillness, I stand face to face,
With the haunted reflections in a mysterious place.
Each shadow I see, a story it weaves,
In the tapestry of night, where the heart never leaves.