Dream Writer

Why is it That the words fall into place The second my head hits the pillow? The days events, Play through my head like a song. As if I am lulling myself to sleep. The slightest little movement, Sends them scurrying like mice. Sometimes when I dream, I write. And in my dreams The words flow so smoothly. I recite them over and over. I even write them down, Reading them a hundred times. But when the morning comes, They fade with the darkness.