by Langston Hughes, 1951
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?
Today I am thankful
- Life lessons
affectionately yours, Laura