Son

A poem about a child's ghost trapped in his parent's house.

In twilight's shroud, where shadows creep, a tale unfolds in silence deep.

 Of parents torn, by sorrow's cost, their child, a ghost, in love now lost.

"Son," they whisper in the night, a mournful plea, a dimming light. 

Through darkened halls, their tears descend, to walls that hold a broken blend.

"Mother, Father," echoes he, a spectre bound, no solace free. 

His spirit lingers, yearns to soar, yet locked in walls forevermore.

In grief they dwell, a cold cocoon, a haunting wail, a muted tune. 

“Let me go,” the lost one cries, yet sealed tight are eyes.

"Son," they murmur, pain profound, yet barred, the doors, no solace found.

 The windows shuttered, hope denied, their aching hearts in chains abide.

"Release me," wails the ghostly child, his voice through darkness reconciled. 

A phantom, frail in spectral chains, entangled by his kin's refrains.

In whispered winds, his tale is told, a tragedy of hearts grown cold. 

“Let me go,” he pleads once more, yet silence reigns, a mournful lore.

"Son," they cry, a woeful moan, a spectre’s plea, a child disowned. 

In solitude, the parents weep, a love entombed in silence steep.

The phantom child, in shadows cast, yearns for skies that he can't grasp.

"Let me go,” his voice does roam, yet doors stay shut, a haunted home.

Author's Note

N/A

Reviews

[Arundass TP]

A sad poem. Written nicely.