On the Pillow

Your head upon the pillow's crest,
Surrendered to the dreamer's quest.
I whisper in the quiet night,
Words, soft as the moon's pale light.

These whispers, like a gentle stream,
They dance and weave within your dream.
A cascade to your waiting soul,
Mingling with tales that make you whole.

No resistance, no control,
The words, a symphony, take their toll.
They seep into your tapestry,
A story woven gracefully.

With the morning's tender light,
Eyes open to a pure delight.
You feel the love, embrace accepted,
Magic lingers, dreams detected.