Sleep baby girl

My dearest angel,
sleep,
the hour is late
and the journey long,
let slumber embrace you.
I will stand guard and
warm you with my arms,
steady you with my body
hold you with my hands. . .
and if for a moment a
bad dream dares to rise
I will banish it
into ethereal skies.
Sleep now my Angel
the hour is late
the journey long.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Birds in song, when the road is long!

Creative writing is very new to me, I have not in the past felt that it was something I was good at, and am very much in the early stages of it now. My creative writing course officially begins in 2 days time! Whilst I was sorting the washing today, these words were jumping around in my head, finally i sat down and wrote them out, the kitchen was brimming with noise, cars were whizzing past, the washing machine was making the deafening noises that they tend to like to do….the original ending for the poem was ‘And I cannot hear the birds sing their happy happy song’ but just as wrote that line down, silence completely fell upon my kitchen, the cars stopped, the washing machine paused and the only sound I could hear were two birds chirping to each other from the tree in the garden, that for me was enough to suggest that my ending was wrong!!!

I know that one day I will look,

and you will be gone.

Until then, I try to keep control,

to be strong.

But, one day you will realise,

that this is simply wrong.

The road is really dark,

and oh so bloody long.

And yet, the only sound I hear,

are two lovebirds, in song.