The Writings of James Adler

In the midnight’s velvet shroud,
Where secrets lie, a whisper loud,
The moon’s soft gleam, a silver thread,
Weaves through the night where shadows tread.

A fleeting glance, a flicker bright,
In corners dark, evading sight,
A creaking step, a door ajar,
The past concealed, now not so far.

What hides within the silent mist,
A tale untold, a lover missed?
The fog rolls in, the night grows deep,
Where mysteries wake and never sleep.

A phantom’s breath, a chilling breeze,
A puzzle lost among the trees,
The night devours, the truth obscure,
What’s real, what’s not—are you so sure?