I had a manuscript accepted only to learn that it may not be the publisher who can really help me.

I fell from a very high shelf last night
much higher than I've ever been before.
I started out under the bottom shelf
lying comfortably there on the floor.

My life was going along so plain
Then I wrote a poem six months ago.
It was about an old gray metal desk
I was surprised how the words seemed to flow

As a pastor I seldom wrote a verse
just some sermons for nearly fifty years.
They have heard a lot of prose as I preached
but no poem had touched on any ears.

One after one every reader approved
giving me more confidence in my self.
As the compliments began to amass
I would climb up to yet a higher shelf.

The view felt great as I looked from above.
A publisher’s mail brought me great delight.
They’d publish the book – how hard to believe!
As I weightlessly soared up to that height.

A helpful friend I have trusted so much
delivered the words I needed to hear
which brought me down from my roost on that shelf.
Things are not always the way they appear.

Today I stumble back down on the floor
I’ve tried my broken spirit to gather.
I’m not defeated and I won’t give in
I’m already in search for another.