At the moment, I’m thinking about The Cat Years…
.
Giving birth
to all the dreams
of a future,
a blessing
longed for,
imagined
named
years—
decades—
before.
Happiness
held tightly
and blinking brown eyes
sleepily from a blanket
tightly wrapped into
a cocoon of possibility.
.
Walking away,
snarling and critical,
bored and irritated,
cynical.
Mocking talents,
unappreciative of
sacrifices made,
opportunities given.
.
Kindnesses
rebuffed,
communication
ignored,
considerations
declined.
.
Mocking the dreams
and the sweet scent of
hope that lingered
in the folds of
new skin
wrapped tightly
with what we thought
was happiness.
.
Possibility is a
far more pleasant
contemplation
than reality.
Shawn L. Bird 
Really like this poem.
Thanks.
This has meaning to works of fiction we create on a certain level. Rejection is a difficult process.
I look at rejection as a “doesn’t fit this publisher/agent/magazine/’s needs at the moment” because so often rejection is not about the inherent quality of the work, but whether it meets their need/vision of the time.
Thank you. This helps my perspective greatly.
lol. Thanks for stopping in.