Morning sonorous

The street lights have long gone out and cars whizz across full puddles as clouds continue to drip drop drip drop into over flowing drains
Silence always sounds the same, night could be any day
There’s a rumbling roar and clitter clatter as it starts and stops a white beam of light penetrating the freezing rain as an old staple steps out of the history books milk bottles in hand with foil tops, thick cream and deathly cat stares waiting, wishing, hoping. The silence tastes like the black clouds, heavy and full of apprehension clinging to the muted song of restless sleep. The insomniacs stir, wipe away the sandman and let these empty hours embrace their feeble, screaming hearts. These are the hours of love, with lost walls and sleeping knights, rusted swords and broken arrows, the maid Marian’s of nights trembling caress and only the milkman is brave enough to trespass across their plane of safe harbour…

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image downloaded from Google

Pillows and chocolate.

If you are not a soft plump pillow doused in the soft scent of roses,

then please, begone.

If you are not a feathered duvet that gently hugs my body,

then please, retreat and leave me in peace.

If you are not a place upon which I may lay or sleep,

then please, take heed, turn upon your heel and walk away.

If you do not bring chocolate, an endless supply,

If you come without the iron rich necessities of life

then please, go, come again another day.

If you are not the warm hands pressed against my stomach,

if you are not the slow beating heart sent to distract,

if you are not the warmth radiating into me,

then please,

leave me to my silence.


Karen Hayward © 2016