november child

the curse of a sentimental heart & a skeptical mind



Hopes, Dreams & Wishes

Hopes, dreams, and wishes…
such overwrought creatures.
Little drama queens,
scattering grandiose ideas
like volcanoes spray ash.
Their exaggerated optimism
is quite annoying.
I have made it a habit
to misplace or
forget about them.

They never take kindly
to my pragmatic attitude,
in the back of my mind
with a vengeance.
My head rings with
their refusal
to be abandoned,
their insistence
I finally commit.


© november child
photo credit:


I sit quietly,
in sync with the rhythm of raindrops
and the veil of solitude
that morning mist drapes over
an abandoned landscape.
All the while
savouring the bouts of excitement
and the tingly feeling
that anticipation sends
through my veins in tiny currents.

I pluck words
from the rusty railroad tracks
and the rain-laden clouds
that tell stories of
a life on the road
under foreign skies
and will finally fill
the empty pages of my life.

I discover belatedly,
I am more addicted to the suspense
and the promise of adventure
that the idea of a journey instils,
than to the actual departure.
So I keep waiting,
though I have lost count of the trains,
I have let come and go
for fear of where
they might actually take me.

© november child
in response to: Michelle Toussaint Photo-Fiction #68
photo credit: via pixdaus, author unknown


Deception took a glance
at your plans
and found them lacking.
Now you wear your incredulity
wrapped tightly around you,
failing to comprehend
the adverse fate that befell you.

Weary and bedraggled
you have reached the limit
of your endurance
and the seams
that so precariously
held your life together
have come undone.

Your eyes film over
as you mourn
the loss of certainty,
while you stand there,
the lone sentry,
guarding the debris
of your destroyed dreams.


© november child
Photo credit: Stephen C. Dickson
in response to: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle #127 ‘October 31st, 2016’

Lucchetti dell’Amore

Every time I cross this bridge
and pass by those love padlocks,
thousands of them,
I hear their deep-drawn sighs.

And I wonder
how many of them voice
their disappointment
about broken promises.


© november child
photo credit: rhein 28 via


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