Dream Deferred

Plant a tree, have a child, write a book.  A friend once shared this advise on how to leave a legacy. For some reason it has stuck with me for many years.  I love trees and have planted my share over the years. I have three wonderful children and, at the present, four terrific grandchildren. The book has nagged me for quite some time. I finally took the plunge and have made a commitment to work on a manuscript around a topic that has been of interest to me for years - Trust. So I begin with a poem which, in many respects, speaks to the dream of writing that has been deferred for far too long.

Thank you Langston Hughes. May my dream expode into something worth leaving behind.

Harlem by Langston Hughes : The Poetry Foundation.

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?