The hour approaches of the new year
Again the ghosts start to rise
Another year as your companions
To be so until you expire

Wish not for glad tidings
There will be none found
As the spirits gather close about you
In a circle tightly bound

Long days begin
Nights seemingly without end
They float and hover about
Waiting and watching
With a saints patience
For the striking of Gods clock

You ask me tentatively
Is this just a story
Perhaps you could be wrong
It is the truth
I say with complete confidence
For I am one of the ghosts who haunt


This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base.  All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3),
Tammy M Darby