Beneath the sun my fringe bleaches blonde, I know this because I let the red grow out just long enough to remember who I am beneath the mask. I remember the days when i was younger, before I discovered black; hair dye, lipstick and nail vanish. When my hair waist length, would bleach completely blonde beneath the sea salt that clung to the curls. Every summer since I have missed this.
I have a dream left over from those carefree days spent swimming beneath the sun.
One day, with sun kissed cheeks, eyes that sparkle blue and a hint of sun shimmering on sea salt curls I want to watch the setting sun. Rays of golden heat traipsing across my bare shoulder and dancing through my damp hair. Sand covering my legs, shorts almost dry as my skin begins to prickle from the days heat.
Beside me is that person in the universe that hears the beating of my heart as the sun drops from the skies, the one that sees what I feel.
Karen Hayward ©2016.