The Haunted Woods

Behind the deserted woods of Styx

There is a desolate village,

Of inanimate trees and

Ransacked houses of bricks.

They zephyrs that once

Roamed the overladen streets,

Got lost in the unceasing solitude,

And accepted their defeat.

They recollect nostalgic moments,

Of children running on the dusty roads,

And playing with petrichor,

When the rain started singing dewy odes.

The wind cries at twilight,

On hearing the silence of the sky,

No more chuckles or arguments,

For water at the well nearby.

Flashbacks of the days of goodbyes,

Still breaks its heart

Wind then got dressed as the tempest,

To stop the villagers from leaving apart.

But alas! Everything was in vain,

Every being left the village,

To go to some beautiful town,

Or the city of Lorraine.

The village gates were locked,

Trapping the bereft zephyrs inside,

They now slam doors and walk down the dusty lane,

We call them ghosts of the woods of Styx.