Upon this day, so bleak, so bright, We mark your birth in pale moonlight. With solemn cheer and grim delight, We toast your specters, wraiths, and blight.
The children wane, the bats take flight, A hatless man is lost from sight. The cats observe with eerie grace, As something skitters through the place.
A candle flickers, snuffed too soon, By unseen hands in dusty gloom. Yet still your pen, though stilled in bone, Writes whispers from the great unknown.
So here’s to you, with wine or tea, May birthdays haunt eternally.
amhrancas 