They told her to give up on her Dream

Her desire was to be an Author

There is no future in that profession,

They told her with certainty,

Writers have lived in poverty,

Surviving on dry bread and tea.

Writers have died as paupers,

Without friends, family, and sympathy.

Those were in the days gone by,

As the silence of failure made writers cry.

A lot has changed in the world,

Writing and publishing has evolved,

Just as independent writers have evolved.

Today writers can be publishers too,

Writing, producing their own work,

While making a small fortune too.

She is a rider who writes her story,

Filling it with her love and her glory.

She lassos the best stories she can find,

To transform them with her creative mind.

She is glad she chose to write,

Every single day of her interesting life.

She writes and writes from dusk to dawn,

As a new story is freshly created and born.

She can relax and have a laugh,

As she writes and develops her craft.

Thank you for reading this poem and I hope you enjoyed it. Warren Brown