Come.
Tell us your fear.
Is it the ghosts of October
Who play when the sun still shines and the harvest yields joy
When the pranksters wish nothing more than to pull a funny trick and steal your treats
We are so much more than monsters who use the full moon as a nightlight
We are the ghosts of December

Come.
Tell us your fear.
And your fear will be renewed. 
We are the sighs of the children 
who watch the sun set from the school bus
We are the daze 
that haunts as you succumb to influenza
We are the icy breath upon your neck
that blues your nose and toes
We are the ghosts of December

We are the tears of November’s aborted
Who never lived to have a present under the tree
We are the pieces of broken hearts
Left alone on a Christmas Eve
We are the bonds left in tatters
From a family feud on a holiday
We are the ghosts of December

We do not play long
For on Christmas Eve the light of the world sends us back to our darkness
But if you miss we ghosts, do not despair
There will always be another December