Peach skies

Crystalline whispers
of shattered dreams
ascending the summit
of one’s soul,
yesterdays mountain…
Like waves
frozen in time,
the forgotten hues
of defeat as the spring
thaw brings new
blossoms.
A Kaleidoscopic
rainbow of colour,
flush pink petals,
lush green leaves,
a horizon before
me of fresh promises
as a new dawn breaks
and the skies
turn a gentle ebb of
deep peach.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image via WordPress library

Snow saunters gently…

Dawn has woken to a wedge of white snow,
Blanketing proudly before my waking eyes
The morning glimmer of crushed diamonds glow,
and birds huddle quietly in empty skies.
Silence rings out in bells of emptiness,
among the stilled monochrome dawning day
the fallen flakes of colds existence
have owned the dark of night through thoughtless play.
In this moment, only I and he exists.
Helios still lays deep within slumber
The skies are heavy, awkward, threatening,
and there, the knitted weave of white, Jack’s number
lays tauntingly snug across window screens
It snowed, wee blankets of love on sleeping cars
so few flakes, laying restless in the dark…

Karen Hayward © 2019

Image and words

Soft gentle memories. 

Winter brings new 

memories of old, 

the air scented with 

bonfires, log fires, 

first kisses, 

Tear filled goodbyes, 

cold legs and glances shy. 

Waning moons

Teardrops on ebbing 

Tides. Dark skies 

Oh the dark skies that 

Whisper to my soul 

‘you are home. Oh 

You my dear are home.’

Crystalised frost 

Beauty where only 

The devil plays, 

 And the soft gentle 

Echo of memories lane. 
Karen Hayward ©2016

Pale sun embracing.

img_20161130_145522.jpg

Have you ever felt the way

the pale winter sun reaches

deep within the soul?

Gold dust sprinkled across

crisp white whispers of winter.

Droplets of dew kissing the boughs

of dying trees lost leaves

aging beneath our feet.

Soft skies promising a silent echo

as winters queen caresses

our blushing cheeks.

Her gentle kisses, frozen embrace and

love formed from the purest lace.

Have you ever felt the pale sun

or crisp morning air beneath

gentle skies as robins fly?

Karen Hayward ©2016 (Image and words)