
Harlem
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?
By Langston Hughes (February 1, 1902 – May 22, 1967)
Sources: Poetry Foundation, Wikipedia, Famous Poets and Poems



































































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