My Dreams

My Dreams At night when I lay in bed, As I drift towards my sleep, When the eve becomes shadowy red, My slumber has begun deep. The silence hums a lullaby, The stars whisper soft above, Clouds are sailing across the sky, Carried on wings of hidden love. Dreams approach like gentle streams, Flowing where my heart once bled, They stitch the fabric of my dreams, With silver threads the moonlight spread. Memories knock at my closed eyes, Shadows turn to glowing flame, Lost voices speak in subtle sighs, Calling softly, naming my name. I wander fields of endless light, Where sorrow has no place to stay, The weary world falls out of sight, As time dissolves and slips away. But dawn will wake me from my rest, Its golden fingers brush my face, Yet in the night I feel most blessed, Wrapped in slumber’s warm embrace. So let the evening slowly fade, Let gentle silence always keep, For dreams are where my soul is made, At night, when I drift to sleep. Would you like me to expand this into a much longer poem (say 60–80 lines) with richer dream imagery, or keep it short and lyrical as it is now?