but we might find ourselves dried up...
below is a poem i'll be using for a lesson my first week of teaching:
Harlem (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?
No comments:
Post a Comment