The devil inside

The devil inside

The old man
Stands at the devils door
Watches and waits
He's been there before
Puts a hand in his pocket
For a freshly cut key
Turns that old lock
He knows what he'll see

Sins of the flesh
The wages of youth
All kept on a film
In a photograph booth
He hears cries in the stairwells
Way down below
Brings back nightmares
Of things he might know

The old man moves
Further on down
To a place back in time
To a very old town
Wrongs and rights
On every street
Ghosts walk by he cannot greet

He's back at the door now
He closes it tight
His memories are fading
Like the coming of night
The old man has known
A devil or two
Whispers softly to himself
It's me and it's you.
                                 R P Edwards