The Spooky Hour.


The winds blew, and the leaves were still,

in response to the spooky air.

No sound was heard, no noises were made.

This was a silence that made me feel unsafe.

Some awake, some roaming around

some watching the scary yet enchanting view outside their windows.

Back and forth, we turn to see not a soul.

This catches on to a contradiction between both the mindsets of ours,

feeling like the victim as well as the ghost.

Anyhow, we run to the solace we seek, 

under the cosy blanket, 

only to be further haunted

by past memories and nightmares

as the unearthly hours pass by. 





AN: The photography, yes, it’s mine. And this isn’t poetry, it’s just my thoughts given in many lines lol. ❤



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