The Dancing Sandman

Short narrative prose of fictional nocturnal characters

The amber glow of the broken street corner lamp, lights the night; and the Sandman comes. I watch him dance over the rooftops, gentle and direct. A figure so light and ethereal, he flows with the night wind. No beginning or end, he finds the tiny of entrance. And like servants we prepare for his coming; we dress for the night and succumb to its mystery. And as quickly as he came, he's gone; only the nocturnal coma of the night keeps us ignorant of his task.
And as I peer into his rooftop dance, my eyes hang heavy, and quickly I'm his victim; my slumber will be welcomed. But as I wait, I watch as he happily glides into the breeze; spreading his golden dream among the hopeless and desperate. And as I become the weary voyeur, he fades into the morning sunrise; and I am comforted in the fact that he will soon return. My friend will dance again upon the rooftops.
.... And soon the street light flickers its dying light as the neighborhood awakes.