He sleeps in my soul

 
He sleeps in my soul, a silent whisper,
guarding my shadows, a sacred secret.
Sometimes he wakes up, in the starry night,
and plays with my dreams, my overflowing peace.
Under the moonlit blanket, his eyes shine,
like glints of light twinkling in the breeze.
He dances in the air, in a subtle sway,
weaving hopes with the threads of April.
His laughs are echoes that the breeze caresses,
drawing smiles where fear begins.
She caresses my longings with cotton wool hands,
and escapes with laughter, like a child in my heart.
He sleeps in my soul, sweet and eternal,
and sometimes in the night he becomes a tender winter.