Making Mud Pies

Writing felt like making pies,

hoping for something to stick.

Character, plot, depth and scope,

Every box I tried to tick.

Somehow every publisher,

had nothing much to say.

Waiting, silent, no reply:

not a great pay day!

It clicked after a little while,

writing was more like bubbles.

It was never meant to be about,

Payback for your troubles.

Everything I put to pen,

Has beauty, shape and colour.

Each one bringing pure delight,

Yet different from another.

Sending thoughts into the air,

Launching every note,

Some shine, others fade,

or catch the breeze and float.

The thing about bubbles is,

they catch another's eye,

In the air, gleaming bright,

As they pass on by.

As more bubbles fill the air,

It's hard to ignore,

The person making bubbles shine,

who wasn't noticed before.

*Thank you for reading! Here is another of my poems: https://shopping-feedback.today/poets/melody-j2zywb03er%3C/a%3E%3C/p%3E%3Cstyle data-emotion-css="14azzlx-P">.css-14azzlx-P{font-family:Droid Serif,Georgia,Times New Roman,Times,serif;font-size:1.1875rem;-webkit-letter-spacing:0.01em;-moz-letter-spacing:0.01em;-ms-letter-spacing:0.01em;letter-spacing:0.01em;line-height:1.6;color:#1A1A1A;margin-top:32px;}