Where is the ghost of Christmas past?
It’s haunting has come to an end,
All chains are at rest, no moans to be heard,
The menacing shroud is no longer stirred,
No shadow of terror upon the wall,
No restless spirit that cries its call,
For you have come and lit my hall,
With love and laughter you’re all aglow,
And like a moth to the flame,
Burning while chanting your name,
I fly on wings that make no sound,
Towards the love that I have found.