New Year Poem by Ben Littlechild

The ghosts of the year past will visit me,
At around new years they appear.
Ghosts of past, presence and future
For my soul they adhere.

The Ghost of year past shows me my sorrows,
Of loves labours lost and found.
The times that are good and luck borrowed
Yet its visit is short for the next phantom is to follow.

The Ghost of present, shows me the joys others have,
Loves abound and jolly had.
It shows me that even though sad, I have nowt to fear,
For the next ghost, may bring cheer.

The ghost of future arrives at twelve, the singing of chorus
Heralds it arrival, amongst cheers and auld Lang syne.
It shows the year has come, my potential if destiny followed,
But straying from the path may bring heart so hollowed.
New year is done, the ghosts have reclined to the never world awaiting another year.
For the time to breathe and relax is only short and quick due to fear
For their tortured faces to see,
On thirty first December, they will find me.