I dream of a sand filled setting sun.

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Sun kissed skin,

eyes that sparkle blue

a hint of sun shimmering

on sea salt curls.

watching the setting sun.

Rays of golden heat traipsing

across my bare shoulder,

dancing through damp hair.

Sand covered legs,

shorts almost dry

skin prickling from the days heat.

Beside me, you.

As the sun drops from the skies,

the one that sees what I feel.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words

Beneath burning skies.

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Walk here with me, wet sand beneath our feet and the evening sun trailing across our faces. The sea gulls squawking for left over chips and the ebbing ocean kissing the shores lips. Pale blue skies above and soft clouds wandering across the horizon. We’ll walk a moment in silence and hear only the dancing melody of our souls as they skip along beside us their fingers entwined as one. Walk with me here toward the descending sun and skies of flaming beauty. Deep pink hues that radiate the aching desire of our spirits as the ocean laps at our feet pushing us ever closer together.  Let us pause as the spirit of the ocean envelopes us; as mermaids sing in perfect harmony as sprites skip across the surf and fairies dance between the grains of sand. Walk with me here along a deserted shore beneath a burning sky, trace the contours of my body with the tips of your fingers. And as the sun bids farewell and we are plunged into darkness, pause here with me, together we will trace the contours of our passion beneath night skies and twinkling stars.

Karen Hayward ©2016 (image and words)

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And if for just a moment
the earth could stop rotating,
and the people stop rotating
and the animals stop rotating
and the world stop rotating.
I really would
like to sit and watch the sun setting.

Karen Hayward ©2016

Golden whispers.

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Soft rays of golden haze spilling at the end of days

as the sun slips from sight and the stars awaken

for their journey through the night draining my world

of light. Sprinkled glitter sparkles in the whispered

mist of seas delight as summers cloud envelopes

my soul caressing the darkest corners and

illuminating forgotten troves of lost treasures.

There is a whisper on the breeze,

a tune in the whistling

birds that sing

of beauty.

Day

end arrives

and the darkness of the

skies draws me in with the hint

of forbidden passion that clings to my skin

as the days mist refuses to leave and the stars hide

behind a thin veil of lust. The moons slither reaching through

the darkness her pearly glow reaching into the abyss of nothingness

enveloping my spirit, awakening the deep desire that burns inside my veins

as the evening sun leaves the sky and darkness fills my sparkling eyes.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016 (Image and words)

 

 

 

To see a multitude of hues.

If time travel were possible I could cruise the depths of the universe at your side. We would search the endless skies for the answers to our questions and the knowledge to our wisdom. We could watch it all begin from row seats, my excitement spilling into time, a static echo heard as a whisper whilst we sleep back in our own beds in our own world. We could watch the earth as she takes her final breaths as she dies before our glistening eyes. You could hold me as at last I feel it safe to cry. We could watch the sun setting over and over and experience the multitude of magnificent hues. We could watch the aurora, like a child I could scream in delight at the spectacular lights. We could sit beneath a full moon and watch as she spills moon dust across a glorious lagoon. We could meet Shakespeare and Dickens and any one you like, we could travel in the darkness or travel in the light. We could watch as we are born, I could discover was mine night or was it morn. I could whisper to my younger self as the fox knocks down the bin, that even in the darkness it is morning and I’m sorry but this really isn’t a dream. We could travel all the shores and see the many ocean tides and for a single moment in time, we could touch. A single touch that stops the ticking clock, the gentle graze lingering on my skin until my dying breath. An imprint on my soul that travels with me where ever I might go.

Karen Hayward ©2016

He who warms the earth.

I watch you every night,
every chance I get,
every time the sky is clear and I see you near.
Deep red sky,
As you say goodbye,
I watch you,
A sight so true.
Blazing into the horizon,
I watch from my room,
Symbolic of the days end
As the sky greets the moon.
Your orange rays dance,
Across me as i stand in trance,
Mesmerised by your deepness,
Feeling your loving caress.
Beautiful ball of flames,
No sets ever the same,
As you end
your day
Of play.

Weeping skies.

Fresh rain falling on a setting sun,
washing away the woes of a mun-
dane society,
filled with variety,
The good the bad,
the nomad
the empty hearted and god dammed sad.
A thousand droplets,
In random sets,
Splattering the window,
Racing down in a sporadic row.
The past in plastic bags, carried in tow.
warm peach clouds,
and a yellow sky,
The burning sun is ready to die,
As the universe sheds tears of loss,
For the eternal boss of existence,
with not an ounce of resistance.