november child

the curse of a sentimental heart & a skeptical mind




Who are you going to be
after the final cadences
of love have died away?

Who are you going to be
when your forever
has lost its echo?

Who are you going to be
when wide-eyed innocence
finally acknowledges the scars?

Who are you going to be
when the sum of your experiences
feels too much like failure?


© Novemberchild
photo credit:  via


I look at the trail
our footsteps left
in the sand, and think,
any scout worth his money
would surely know
everything about us.

Your long strides,
so forceful, and steady,
focused on your destination,
rarely straying
from your chosen path.

In such stark contrast
to my chaotic tracks.
Always two steps
where you need one,
dancing from left to right,
stopping here and there
for another object
of distraction,
finally running
in an effort to keep up.


© november child
photo credit: via Pinterest

Chasing Meaning

I try to catch meaning again,
a Sisyphean enterprise
as my attention span
is in direct relation to
my ever increasing
level of ennui.

And I do get bored easily
these days.

She says,
Why ever? Do you not see
how much excitement
this world holds?
All the things we can do…

And I so want to
burst her bubble of
naivety with a spell of
An overreaction, I admit,
but sometimes her
artless views
bring out the worst in me.

Oh, the eagerness of
a young soul.
Been there, done that.
They are all caught up
in the doing
which does not
equate to being.

Do they ever ponder
the necessity for activity
at all?


© november child
photo credit: Steve Jurvetson via Flickr

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