In shadows deep where spirits dwell,
A tale of longing I will tell,
Of a ghost who roams through the graveyard's night,
Seeking solace in the pale moonlight.
She drifts unseen amidst the graves,
Whispering secrets to silent graves,
Her translucent form, ethereal and frail,
Yearning for her friend, through misty veil.
Upon a weathered headstone, she stops her flight,
A dolly sits, a beacon in the night,
Tattered and loved, once cherished and adored,
Now forgotten, abandoned, with memories ignored.
Her porcelain face, cracked and worn,
A symbol of the love they had once sworn,
Together they played, laughed, and dreamed,
Through shared adventures, a bond esteemed.
But now the dolly sits alone,
Asleep with flowers, cobwebs are grown,
The ghost with tears, in sorrow, implore,
To reunite them with love, just once more.
With a gentle touch, her spectral hand,
Lifts the dolly, cradled as if on command,
A tender embrace, a moment's delight,
Their spirits entwined in the velvet night.
And as the wind whispers through the ancient trees,
The ghost and her dolly find tranquility,
In whispered secrets and whispered sighs,
Two lost souls united under moonlit skies.
For in that graveyard, where spirits reside,
Love transcends reality, souls collide,
The ghost and her dolly, forever entwined,
A tale of friendship, enduring, undefined.
