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november child

the curse of a sentimental heart & a skeptical mind

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winter

First Snow

You have never
felt the magic of
those first, big snowflakes
unless you raised
your face to welcome
their cold dance on your skin
(admit, you tried to catch
at least one
on the tip of your tongue),
and your hands
turn numb from
throwing snowballs.

 

© Novemberchild
photo credit: via homeopathicassociates.com

November Night

The lights of early
Christmas decorations
fail to gloss over
the tristesse of
a world soaked in grey.

Old townhouses leak
history, kitchen odours,
and a need for repairs,
as the cold light of
telly screens flickers behind
curtainless windows.

A shadow silhouette
fades in and out
of November fog,
the sound of their footsteps
strangely muted.
Nothing feels
lonelier than a city
on a winter night.

© Novemberchild
photo credit: Azifaral via Deviantart

City Asleep

I lean into the stillness
of a city asleep.

I embrace the dense cloud cover
sealing in night-time illumination’s
surreal orange light;
banned from leaping up
into infinite space,
it raises a dome of seclusion,
cheating us into thinking
we are cut off from
the rest of the world.

I hum to the feeble tune
a single siren wails
in the distance,
and walk to the timing
of redundant traffic lights,
whose warning is lost on
the few resolute pigeons
reaping the harvest that
discarded food offers.

I carefully avoid stepping
on the interchangeable truths
neon lights write on dirty tarmac,
while cheering for the tiny ice rebels
in their quest of concealing
the concrete monsters
with a white veil
of fleeting beauty.

 

 

© november child
photo credit: Katerianer via deviantart
The Sunday Whirl – Wordle 281
Infinite

Waiting

 

From a golden carpet
of fallen leaves
dark, gnarly silhouettes
reach for a sombre sky.
Devoid of their
majestic summer aspects
their beauty is of the darker kind.

The world seems smaller
as grey clouds gather
like wads of smoke
to form a low dense cover.
Heralds of winter’s approach
they carry the crisp, clean scent of snow.

And in concert with nature
we move at a slower pace,
holding our breath while we wait;
keeping in mind
spring’s promise of
transformation and rebirth.

© november child
photo credit: Wikimedia Commons
Smoke
Transformation

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