Fighting Sleep 

I notice I can’t take my hands off the keys. 
I want to write.
My body, who is clearly a separate entity
has other plans – and yet,
I want to be here in the rough and tumble 
of the seeker’s life,
the writer’s sweat, 
the poet’s playroom of deliciousness.
Am I still the inquisitive four year old
fighting the sleep?
Throwing feather pillows in the air? 
If I am, my little heart has Loves to live
and passions to embrace…..
Perhaps now I have said it….
allowed it,
embraced it…..
maybe now I can leave my fight 
and fly into my sleep of dreams.