The crow among the mist.

I sit beside the open window and feel the damp morning air tingling across my bare skin. The rains scent is mingling with the morning birds beneath the grey skies and a soft haze clings lovingly to the lifeless street. A black crow watches me on the branch of a dead tree, his dark eyes surveying my every move I wonder can he hear the beating of my heart. I tie back my hair and let the morning freshness sweep across my shoulders I want to feel the fine mist on sun kissed face, but I can’t, the cock is yet to crow to signify the waking of my world. So for now I am happy sitting beside the open window as the feel of the mornings damp mist tingles across my bare skin.

Karen Hayward ©2016.

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