Talking to a Ghost

In the quiet of the night, I call,

A whisper lingers in the hall.

No footsteps sound, no shadows creep,

But I hear your voice, soft and deep.

A presence felt, though none can see,

The air grows thick with mystery.

You answer back in silent grace,

A hollow echo, a vacant space.

Your words are winds that brush my ear,

A forgotten love, a buried fear.

In your eyes, I see the past,

A fleeting moment, never to last.

Yet, still I reach across the divide,

For the answers you no longer hide.

A ghost in the room, but not of skin,

In your absence, where do I begin?

The world moves on, but you remain,

A whisper, a shadow, a bittersweet pain.

I talk to you, but you don't reply—

Just a ghost beneath the endless sky.