The silent hours chill the air with the absence of others.
The faint ticks of a nearby kitchen clock and a passing jet,overhead, mark the hours, since I've tried to fall to slumber.
The halls of my mind are dusty galleries of those once exciting and eventful days
When I was younger and much more content.
Fearing each empty spot on these walls of my halls  in these dusty galleries of my mind
I've noticed that it has been a while since I was able to put a memory up due to another empty and unfulfilled moment.
I jump, quickly, into another hall which is full of vibrant and more happier collections.
The warmth comes back, for a while, and my faded and weak imagination starts to build.
Once more I can day dream of excitement and come forth with an action plan to win this battle I have with the clock.
Father time reminds me, with each passing season and every change of our clocks in the fall and early summer, how much time that is left. Before the sands that  he holds for me
run themselves empty.
I fall to twilight sleep dancing with Peter Pan and Little Tinker Bell.
A quick bit of bright luminosity.
My dark halls light up and bare what is beneath the dusts in the halls of my life's museum of achievements.
The fear slides away as I see the truth. I have done the best that I could do with what I have been given.
Like Frank Sinatra sings, at what was his "near end," I did it "My Way."
The strength of such revelations always make my blood fuel my heart and my passion to be even better of a creator
Never giving up with every new and passing day.
Such a gift.
My feet are now light.
I fall to sleep...
Sleeping to the sun's signal of a new day..
Shooting onto my body his bright and life sustaining rays.