In the graveyard’s heart, where shadows creep,
A mortal woman dances, in the night so deep,
Amidst the tombstones, ancient and worn,
She dances with death, as the night is reborn.
The moon hangs low, casting a warm, ghostly glow,
Illuminating whispers where the lost souls flow,
Stars twinkle above in a celestial embrace,
Bearing witness to their waltz in this haunting place.
She twirls and spins, with death as her guide,
A macabre waltz, in the darkness wide,
Her gown, a dark tapestry, flows with the breeze,
A shroud woven finely with secrets that tease.
With each step she takes on the hallowed ground,
The echoes of silence in shadows resound,
The air thick with sorrow, the scent of decay,
Yet she dances with grace, in the night’s dark ballet.
Her laughter, a chime that rings through the gloom,
As death holds her close, dancing among the tombs,
Stars watched in wonder, their light dimmed by dread,
For they knew of the fates that laid far ahead.
The mist swirls around them, like a ghostly veil,
There love can never be, in this night’s dark tale,
For in this communion, where the living meet dead,
She finds solace and beauty in the words left unsaid.
But the dance lingers on, in the depths of her heart,
A reminder that life and death never part,
Every night she dances with death on the hollow ground,
In the days light only footprints can be found.
