Growing As A Writer Poem by Alizabeth McDermott

A trip to the library.
As I got older,
its meaning slowly changed.
I used to look around and see
Just books,
Some for school,
Some to read for fun,
Some that didn't mean anything to me.
Now when I look around I see
bookshelves, old and wooden,
filled to the brim with their stories,
a coffee pot, slowly dripping,
its hot, delicious ambition,
and a plant, alive and vibrant,
soaking in the rays of sunlight from the window
as if it took joy in doing so.
Over the years I went
from a reader, to a writer.
But it's not about me.
When I look around I see dreams.
The life of a young girl or boy,
growing into a fulfilled prophecy of
meaning after being watered with time.
Many lifetimes filled with rejection after rejection,
only to stumble across success
after hope has persevered through all doubts.
A dream made a job, job to career,
and a career turned into a life
that is accepted with open arms by its founder.
I understand that not everyone
sees this the same way.
To some its trivial,
to others just a building of books;
but to me… it is everything.
We are the ones who have dreamed and succeeded.
We are the ones who have learned so much.
We are the ones who go overlooked.
We are unique and amazing in our own way, and
we are the ones who made it.
Stop.
Look around.
Because for us, this is the greatest achievement of all.
Through trial and error,
pain and perseverance.
We are the lucky ones.