Hush, hush, the wind blows, the water flows, the reaper sows.
Hush, hush, they're in disguise, the crow flies, the maiden cries.
Hush, hush, the secrets spread, one left for dead, off with his head.
Hush, hush, the lightning strikes, gone are the tykes, the demon likes.
Hush, hush, time draws near, all in fear, then disappear.
Hush, hush, not missing for long, a haunting song, the thirteenth bong.
Hush, hush, they are not few, silence anew, return for you.
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Ghosts of the Past
PoetryThe whispers in the corners of your ears, the eerie feeling of nostalgia when looking at an ancient bauble...ghosts plague us everyday.
