The ghosts of Dickens' tale haunt me.

Thy've many scenes for me to see.

My present, past,

And future last,

And through them all I will find hope.


My journey starts with one small flame,

The Ghost of Christmas Past his name.

He shines so bright

In dreary night,

And in his tale I will find hope.


I see small girls asleep in bed,

Dreams of Christmas fill their heads.

The day has come!

To gifts they run,

And in that day they found some hope.


Now comes a ghost round and jolly,

Clothed in robes and boughs of holly.

He's here today,

But not to stay,

But in his laugh I find some hope.


A shadow gray dost cloud the day,

But we do not show our dismay.

The pain won't last,

It soon will pass,

And in the trials we will find hope.


The third and final specter's here,

With darkness and an air of fear.

His skel'tal form

Black cloak adorns,

But though he warns I will find hope.


The future could hold anything,

A heart, a home, a song to sing.

It could be glad,

It could be sad,

But somehow I will still find hope.



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