In the realm where spirits roam,
There dwells a ghost with a voice of gold,
An ethereal specter, yet not alone,
For his haunting melody begins to unfold.

Amidst the moonlit night's embrace,
In a forgotten theater, his presence concealed,
The ghostly maestro seeks solace and grace,
With an opera that only he could yield.

His transparent form, a shimmering haze,
Glimmers with a spectral glow,
As he takes the stage in a haunting daze,
His voice resonates, gentle and low.

From forgotten tales of love and woe,
He weaves arias with melancholy and might,
The sorrow in his voice...