Singing to my soul.


I open a window and sit huddled in front of it. The morning air is humid, freshly fallen rain adds a twist of freshness that travels across the beaks of birds in song. Beneath grey clouds I listen to the orchestra and wonder whether mother nature or the universe is their conductor. Heavy cars are sporadically spilling up the road, tires dragging through the puddles, engines disturbing the music. Then silence erupts but for the whistling lovers that sit up in the trees. Their song washes over me as the rain begins to fall cleansing the start of another day.

Karen Hayward ©2016

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Welcome to my blog! Here you will find different forms of creative writing, lots of swearing, erotic poetry, random thoughts, beautiful imagery, but most of all you will find a version of truth. My truth, this is the way that I see the world. However, all of my work is a form of creative writing, a combination of truth and fiction. I write to express my creativity, not my needs!

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