In a quiet room, where shadows dance,
And the world outside is still,
There lies a bed of cotton and lace,
Where dreams are born at will.

The moonlight spills through curtains thin,
A silver stream so wide,
It softly bathes the weary soul,
And bids the day abide.

The clock ticks on, a steady beat,
A lullaby so near,
It whispers secrets of the night,
That only stars can hear.

The pillow cradles every thought,
And all the worries fade,
As eyelids close, the mind departs,
To where dreams are made.

Through fields of gold and rivers blue,
The dreamer drifts away,
To lands where time is but a breeze,
And night is just a day.

The gentle rise, the gentle fall,
Of breath so pure and deep,
Carries the soul on peaceful wings,
Into the arms of sleep.

No cares, no fears, no tears to weep,
Just quiet, calm, and rest,
In slumber's sweet and tender hold,
The heart finds solace best.

So let the night embrace the mind,
Let sleep's soft curtains close,
For in the quiet of the night,
True peace and comfort grows.

And when the morning light does break,
And dreams dissolve away,
The soul will wake, refreshed and bright,
To greet the brand new day.