Of Demons and Ghosts

Ghosts, they are near at hand,
Pounding hard on the front door.
Merry, mad, belligerent and bland
"We come to you from the memory store".

Demons, hanging outside the back door
With crimson eyes and smoky words.
A crack in the wall or a hole in the floor,
Then they float on in, in their hazy herds.

"Its a stormy night and the winds are cold"
"I ought to let them all inside"
"Usher em' in and let the folds unfold"
"For tonight, restraint, is no friend of mine."

A melee of sorts, a silent fray,
As the noise ensues, with no sound.
Ghosts and demons, grim and gray
A motely crew and we're all sleep bound.