Oh, how it stings
when you reach for the stars
and the stool gets kicked out beneath you
Time spent perfecting your craft,
absconded by small men
driven by a false sense of importance
When the stairs leading to success
are laden with dead flowers and
guarded by floundering leaders
droning like bees at the empty hive,
a new sense of purpose evolves
and the compass gets reset
Sometimes that sting, that powerful reminder,
innoculates the worker against forces
meant to sap confidence and trust
Inspired, she moves her stool
to a place where the stars shine bright,
and appear just a little closer
photo: mine
Writing and Reflections 
Your photo image has impact
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Thank you. I took that picture at Fort Trumbull in New London, Connecticut.
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hooked from the first two lines!
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Thank you! I just came from a professional development meeting and was pretty fired up. They used the words star, stairs, sting, and stool in one of the useless examples so I turned it into a poem. 🙂
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Thanks for reminding me! The same but not I have just posted one that wrote itself while I was in a professional (it really was not) Development (I did not) meeting (not of minds or cultures).
‘Cept mine is far less subtle than yours
https://beeseeker.wordpress.com/2015/11/12/bored-room-meeting/
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Love your poem! It’s so true. There’s nothing more frustrating than for someone to think your time is something less than valuable!
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