Wednesday, November 05, 2008

A dream deferred, Langston Hughes

This poem came to mind today:

A Dream Deferred

by Langston Hughes


What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

1 comment:

Peter Carey said...

I wonder what Langston Hughes is thinking as he looks down on President Elect Obama!