Idream of you, in songs of perfect words.

I dream of days that are lived and gone,

bathed in hues of hind sights song,

times in life, when choices were wrong.

I sing of memories that fill my heart,

of forgotten people that played their part,

hidden now in eternal dark.

I hum of love that once was mine,

cherished thoughts, my mind does dine,

as I was hum the tune of that perfect find.

I talk of them in words and thoughts,

of promises made and truths I sought,

treasured gifts that I have brought.

Old Mothers Clock.

Tick tock, tick tock

the constant drum of

old mothers clock,

as morning dawns

and my sleep stops.

A yawn and a stretch,

then my old tattered frock,

A hop and a jump

and one blue sock.

There’s a tap, in the dark

then a hammer and a knock,

as I creep down the stairs,

praying it will stop.

My ears are drumming,

I fear they will pop.

I wonder for a moment,

if it’s finally a cop.

Good Morning mam,

my names Rob,

I look and stare

give a little nod.

At the kitchen door,

is the blood stained mop.

Been a call,

mutters old cop, Rob.

I half expected an angry mob,

a little concerned,

about the neighbours dog.

Dog? I laugh,

that beasts a sod.

I breath and sigh,

he don’t know about the bod.

He looks, he winks, he bids farewell,

I close the door and nudge the lock.

The house is dark,  the blood still drips,

tick tock, tick tock,

as the life drips down from

old mothers clock.

Spring, with each new petal.

Warm rays that wake my soul,
As morning dawns and darkness goes,
Blue skies of endless hope,
Birds sing the perfect notes.
Flowers, tired, drained of life,
Open their eyes, drink in the light,
Petals full of vibrant energy,
Nectar, for our dear, dear honey bee.
New life for the growing buds,
Pushing through the heavy mud.
Spring thaws the freezing earth,
A new energy filled with mirth,
The sky grows light,
petals take flight,
static air forms to excite
As we sit back and take in this glorious sight.

Karen Hayward © 2015.