The Midnight Hour

Here I am, teetering on the edge, that place between one day and the next, darkest midnight. Still digesting the past day and all its nuances, facing a new day with the coming of morning light. A papery new moon moves across the night sky, and sleep elusive, I am remembering other midnight hours. Hours when the passions of youth were ripe with promise, And the buds of the reality of life had yet to flower. A gentle breeze plays a bit with the window curtain. I watch the moonbeams dance across the bedroom wall. These are the private times that have no expectations, And in wakeful dreams I invite my elusive muse to call....