Sleeping on the edge of a page.

It’s late.
It’s almost late and as I
sit on the corner of the page that will take me into a new chapter of my life,
I wonder if I will sleep.
Will the golden edged moon drop her dust sparingly across my naked bust as I close my eyes and dream of things that are beyond reality.
Or will she offer light into my darkened mind for me to explore my deepest thoughts.
It’s late, it’s almost late,
and the sandman waits patiently at the dream lands gate.